Compass
by mykelara
Summary: It is the spring of 2016. DI Ellie Miller yet again has to face a new boss. A story inspired by set pictures of Broadchurch S3 and my own spoilery ideas for possible plot lines. (Hardy x Miller)
1. Chapter 1 - Shades, Ties and A Ponytail

**A/N:** Dear readers, this story was inspired by some of the pictures that have surfaced from filming Broadchurch Series 3, as well as my own thoughts about possible story lines. If you don't want to encounter any spoilery ideas, do not read on… otherwise I hope you'll enjoy. Be warned… there isn't only fluff in this…

A thank you to those who have served as my test audience – HAZELMIST, FRANZI86, EXCUSEMEWHILEIWAGMYTAIL, LILYDRAGON, LIZANN5869, HALFASLUG, and the ever gracious KTROSE who also tried to fix my errors. What remains is mine. Comments are always welcome.

* * *

 **Compass**

" _Compasses break."_

 _\- Alec Hardy, Broadchurch Series 1_

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Shades, Ties and A Ponytail**

 _Spring 2016_

Ellie Miller was having a shit day.

It started in the morning. Tom in all his teenage glory refused to get up until she sent in his little brother to steal his blanket and his phone. The four-year-old complied enthusiastically, and ten minutes later, her boys were seated around the breakfast table. Ellie watched her sons wolf down heaps of toast and eggs. The sun filtered through the window, glowing on their dark blonde hair, and despite the hectic start, a peaceful feeling settled in Ellie's stomach. She ruffled Fred's curls and restrained herself to do the same with Tom.

They still ran late for school drop off.

Tom grunted a goodbye and reminded her he'd be late due to football practice before he jogged off into the building. At the nursery school, Ellie had a rude awakening. She'd forgotten to bring the clearance letter from their GP to allow Fred back into school after the nasty viral illness he'd had for the past week. Fred wailed in her arms when she dragged him back to the car, begging to see his friends. He'd been bored to death and longed for company that could appreciate his love for speaking and walking ninja turtles. She had no choice but to take him to work with her.

"Fred, my love. How about we go to the police station together? Nish is there," she suggested, banking on Fred's fondness for her DS.

Fred's face was scrunched into a disapproving scowl, but he nodded in agreement. DS Patel was one of his favorite subjects for endless lectures about super heroes, dinosaurs, or whatever else his latest fancy was.

* * *

They made it just in time for Ellie to catch the morning brief. She shoved Fred into her office and handed over her phone with a few games ready to go. Ellie chastised herself for her poor parenting choices, but what else was she supposed to do. At least he'd be occupied for the moment.

She closed the door quietly and sneaked up to the back of the assembled group. CS Jenkinson had already started. Ellie frowned. It couldn't be anything good if her boss had taken the lead.

Her instincts didn't betray her.

To everyone's surprise Jenkinson announced that the Wessex Police had decided the region needed a new DCI position and that it would be sponsored through the Broadchurch Constabulary. It was even more of a surprise when she casually dropped the name of their new boss. Jenkinson left the dumbfounded crowd to witter among themselves and retreated swiftly into the sanctuary of her office.

Ellie followed her and barged in as soon as it didn't seem utterly unprofessional.

"You're bringing Hardy back? Of all people that you could have looked at," Ellie threw at Jenkinson the moment she'd slammed the door shut.

Jenkinson looked up from her desk, eyebrows raised and unfazed by Ellie's outburst.

"He's qualified. He's sorted out his heart condition; or at least I was assured it's sufficiently taken care of. And he wanted this position. So-"

"Wait! Did you say he _wanted_ the position?" Ellie cut her off.

 _Bloody wanker_! How did he dare come back and piss on her turf again? She'd only been made DI a few months back and had been quite enjoying leading her team without someone telling her what to do.

"Yes," came Jenkinson's level reply. Her expression didn't give anything away. "The two of you should be able to work together well, shouldn't you? After all it's not a first."

Ellie groaned. "No. It isn't."

She hadn't seen him since the conclusion of the Sandbrook trials half a year back. At that time, he had been working in the South Mercia Police Force as DI for about a month. During the trial, a bunch of hungry journalists had trailed him. But they hadn't been alone. To Ellie's utter bewilderment he had a fanclub. He hated his groupies just as much as he loathed the press, or at least that's what he'd said. Ellie had caught him several times being extremely _nice_ to his devoted followers. He'd smiled, placed a hand on shoulders, and made the odd joke which nearly gave Ellie a stroke. Every time he had become aware of Ellie watching him, his lanky body stiffened, and he'd shoved his hands in his pockets and put on a scowly face. He was a pathetic actor.

They had stayed in touch. He'd started it. One morning, she had been greeted by a text complaining that his numpty DS was irking him. She'd written back, calling him a knob for most likely being a pain in the arse to the poor man. He'd replied with a smiley face and _'who says it's a man?'_. It took Ellie the whole day to admit to herself that she'd been bothered by that tiny tidbit of information. His daily feed of office woes quickly became a routine that she'd only missed in the past couple of weeks. Now she knew why. The fuckwit must have quit at South Mercia.

"Then we're all set here, Ellie." Jenkinson's dismissive words pulled her back from a place far away.

Ellie sighed. "When does he start?"

"Today."

Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. "Quite right."

On cue, the door was thrown open and in walked DCI Alec Hardy. He was vividly engaged in a conversation with Fred who was trailing him like an overly excited puppy.

"No, you're wrong, Hadee. Mickey has the orange mask and Donnie the purple," Fred argued, his jaw set in a determined thrust.

"No, wee Fred. I'm certain it was Mickey who's purple," Hardy retorted with equal zeal.

"No!" Fred stomped his foot on the floor and swiftly pulled down his trousers to reveal his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underpants. He pointed at one of the green figures.

"See - orange!" he crowed in triumph.

Hardy stooped down and squinted at the small head of the turtle. A smile flicked over his face, revealing a burst of crinkles around his eyes.

"Why, wee Fred. You're right. You're a keen observer, just like your mother," Hardy stated and finally looked up at the two women.

His sparkly eyes met Ellie's and the small expression of amusement broadened into a smile she'd only seen once on him when he'd told her that he'd made it through his operation.

Fred used the opportunity to sneeze on Hardy who chuckled, grabbed Fred's nose with his long fingers and wiggled it.

"You have to think of your reward, wee Fred," he said and rose to his full height.

Ellie and Jenkinson stared at him as if he was a ghost despite Hardy looking more alive than he had during his whole prior time in Broadchurch. He nicely filled out his pristinely pressed suit and he'd gotten a haircut.

"CS Jenkinson," he greeted Jenkinson with a nod and then turned to Miller.

He took a bouncy step toward her, stuck out his hand, and exclaimed "Detective Inspector Miller" with so much glee that she wondered if the reason why his heart condition had improved was because he'd been given drugs with some interesting side effects. She took his hand, and before she knew it the sneaky bastard had pulled her into a hug. He'd only done that once before, after the guilty verdict for the murderous Sandbrook trio, and she'd almost slapped him.

"Hardy! Bloody hell, let go of me!" Ellie cried out, wiggling in his arms.

He did as he was told, but a satisfied smirk lingered in those bright eyes that beamed with life and energy and had lost all weariness that she was so used to.

"Nice to see you too, Miller," he mumbled, hiding his amusement poorly.

Fred tugged on his trouser legs. Hardy cast down his gaze, giving Ellie an opportunity to gather herself.

"I know what I want, Hadee." Fred bounced up and down and Hardy ruffled his hair.

Ellie froze. It was too much. Her brain was screaming at her that this image was in no way reconcilable with the image of Hardy in her head.

"I want your sunglasses!" Fred demanded, reaching his grabby hand towards Hardy's silky grey suit jacket.

"Ahaha - wee Fred," Hardy sniggered and fished a pair of suspiciously stylish, dark tinted spectacles out of the inside pocket of his jacket. Ellie gaped when she caught a glimpse of the colorful shiny lining. He handed them to the little boy who happily put them on his nose.

Ellie stared at the fashionable eyewear now decorating her son's face. Then her eyes wandered toward Hardy who had shoved his hands into his pockets and shot her an upward gaze.

"These are _your_ sunglasses?" she asked incredulously.

"Not any more," he mumbled.

He pulled out his hand and his long fingers fidgeted with his dark blue and red checkered tie, stroking it repeatedly.

"Ugh, don't be a smart arse, you knob," she threw back at him, resorting to the safe ground of insulting him.

He grinned and found her eyes. "It's good to be here, Miller."

* * *

On his first day back he spooked out the team with a friendly _'good morning'_ and a word of praise. Nish and Frank pulled Ellie aside and interrogated her about what the hell was wrong with Hardy. Ellie was at a loss. It was unnerving at best and annoying at the worst. On more than one occasion she wanted to strangle him when those formerly sorrowful eyes teased her with a grin.

The good mood didn't last long though. By his third day back, he'd already yelled at all of them twice before noon, cursed at the media, and used up all the tea bags. He squirmed in his seat during the morning brief, and that air of misery that he used to wear like a cloak had returned.

Ellie couldn't help but notice that he appeared to be uncomfortable in his own skin. He kept rubbing his wrists, and his restless fingers curled and uncurled repeatedly. When he got up, Ellie swore he moaned. The bounce had left his step.

"You all right?" she asked, knocking on the frame of his open door.

"'M fine," he muttered.

"If you're fine, what's bugging you then?" Ellie quizzed, not letting him get off the hook.

"Miller, I am _fine_ ," he emphasized, kneading his shoulder.

"Right."

 _Knob._

She let him be for the rest of the day. When the evening came round, she'd been so busy that she hadn't noticed that he had left early.

* * *

The next day he was late. He'd never been late since she knew him. When he stormed into CID, windswept and suit rumpled, people felt reassured that their boss was still Alec Hardy and hadn't been replaced by some alien imposter.

He didn't say much the whole morning, trudging back and forth between his office and the kitchenette. Ellie kept track on his tea consumption. He had dragged back his sixth cup into his lair when Ellie got a better glimpse of his face. The ghostly paleness was back, only brightened up by a fleeting reddish hue on his cheeks. He shot her a quick glance in passing, his eyes shining.

This time It wasn't due to glee though. The penny dropped. Fred had been sick a week back and Hardy's discourse over amphibian superheroes with her son had ended with a wet slobbering smooch on Hardy's stubbly cheek. There was no doubt - Hardy was ill. Not like his usual death defying ill, but ill like an ordinary human being.

Ellie's lips curled up in smile. A deep maternal instinct paired with an equally deeply rooted drive to solve a mystery took over.

She got up, slowly circling in on her prey. She would have to tread carefully and pull out all of her skills as an interrogator to get a confession out of this one. She made a cautious effort to close in on his office by striking up random conversations with her co-workers. By the time she finally made it to his door, he'd closed it.

Ellie loitered in front of it, trying to come up with a good excuse to disturb him. She didn't have to. The door cracked open and a raspy "Come in already" invited her to enter the lair of the beast.

He well deserved his nickname _'Shitface'._ Even his hair looked miserable and droopy. He peered at her with glassy eyes and a glowing nose.

"So, not feeling so well, aren't we?" she began nonchalantly.

"Miller, don't start," he croaked, followed by a short but nonetheless hacking cough. He swallowed hard and winced in pain.

"Ah, having a wee bit of a cold there," Miller stated and stepped closer.

Hardy grunted a denial and continued to pretend he was working on a file. Stealthily she sidled up to him. She had enough experience with a defiant teenaged boy and a willful toddler that Hardy seemed an easy kill. She couldn't have been more wrong.

His hand clamped down on her wrist before she could raise her arm halfway up toward feeling his forehead for the fever that he undoubtedly had.

"Don't even think about it," he growled. His skin was burning hers.

"Bloody hell, Hardy. You clearly got the flu and shouldn't be here," she called him out and yanked her arm away.

"Miller, I had a flu shot. 'M fine," he assured her with much less conviction than the day prior.

"Shit you are," she grumbled but backed off.

He dropped the file folder on his desk and swiveled around in his chair to face her. His glare would have been more impressive if his right eye hadn't been bright red where the white should have been.

"Miller, 'm fine," he wheezed.

Ellie's eyebrow went up. "Yeah, I can see that."

Hardy rolled his glassy red eyes and shook his head. Then he clambered to his feet, plucked his coat off the hook, and put it on with a bat wing swoop.

"You're in charge, Miller," he sighed, patted her on the back, and left a flabbergasted Ellie behind in his empty office.

* * *

The next day, he didn't return.

Ellie tapped a pen on her desk, mulling over her course of action. It wasn't like Hardy to skip work. What if his dodgy heart had given out on him for good? She hated herself for worrying, but she couldn't help but do so. This man was a shit magnet, and up until when he had returned energetic and dapper, she'd been convinced he couldn't take care of himself.

She focused her attention on her work but soon enough drifted back to staring at his deserted office. He hadn't returned her texts or calls. Twirling her mobile in her hand, she bet herself how much longer she could refrain from doing something utterly stupid and swing by his house.

 _Bollocks._

She didn't even know where he was staying. She assumed The Traders as he had recently arrived. Groaning in exasperation, she snatched up the office phone and dialed the desk sergeant.

After a brief back and forth, she ascertained that Hardy by no means was living in a hotel. He'd taken on a cottage on the cliff side, close to the beach. Not for the first time, Ellie wondered what drove this man who had a clear phobia of water to seek out lodgings right next to rivers and oceans. It was so him though. Always stubbornly refusing to give in.

She dialed his number one last time, already walking to her car. It went to voice mail again. Images of him passed out on his living room floor flashed in front of her, fueled by the vivid memory of Briar Cliff, while she was racing through the windy roads of Broadchurch.

Her car came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the grassy hill that climbed up to the Harbor Cliff. Ellie glanced up the narrow stairs that lead to the white house. For a man with a heart condition they seemed dreadfully steep. She grinned at the echo of his words in her mind – _'s not a condition'_ \- and hurried up the steps, taking two at a time. Her hair came loose from the tight bun it had been wound into, framing her flushed face.

She crossed the small terrace and skidded to a halt in front of the sliding doors. There wasn't an obvious entrance, so she knocked onto the glass. She squinted to catch any movement beyond the window, and absentmindedly wrestled her unruly curls into a long pony tail.

Nothing happened. No one answered and she couldn't make out anything inside.

She rapped the glass one more time. Maybe the desk sergeant had given her the wrong address. Or maybe… she didn't want to think about it. She ignored the buzzing of her phone in her pocket book. It buzzed again. Cursing under her breath, she fished it out in between sunglasses, keys, makeup, baby wipes, and forgotten snacks.

Hardy had sent her a message: **It's open, Miller.**

Why was it that she could hear his eye rolling through a text? Sighing, she slid the door aside and stepped into his home. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Hardy?" she called out.

"Bedroom, in the back," came a croaking reply, cut short by the most horrible cough that Ellie had heard in a long time.

She followed the hacking noises and found Hardy sitting at the edge of his bed, slumped over and shaking.

"Why are you wearing a shirt and tie?" Ellie blurted out in disbelief. The man was expelling his own lung but was dressed up to go to his own funeral.

"Seriously?" he wheezed.

"Have you got no pajamas?" she asked and closed the distance between them.

He shot her a beady-eyed glance. "'course I got pajamas. Was too tired when I came home yesterday."

Ellie could smell the lie a million miles away. "Did you pass out before you could change?"

His feverish gaze lingered on her, then he dropped it and mumbled, "Sort of."

Ellie searched his face and decided not to press the issue. He had revealed more than he usually would.

His arms spread apart, he braced himself at the edge of the mattress. Everything about him – from that annoying lock of hair sticking to his forehead to his chattering teeth – told of how miserable he must be feeling. His crusted over long lashes obscured his bright red eyes. Ellie had no idea about the multitude of viral illnesses that were out there, but this wasn't the flu. It was clearly the same bug that had ravaged poor Fred the week prior. Ellie felt unreasonably guilty for having exposed Hardy to it.

"Let me help you," she requested when she saw him fumbling with the blue tie.

She reached for it, brushing away his trembling fingers. Jumping with her touch, he dropped his hands into his lap and let her loosen the tie. She felt his hot breath on her chest when she pulled it over his head.

Ellie paused for a heartbeat. In a different life and a different world this could have been interpreted in a very different way. Another coughing spell pulled her away from her reverie. She looked down on him, right when he tipped his head back. And for a second that stretched into an eternity, she indulged and lost herself in those wide hazel eyes, wondering if that glow in them was due to the fever or mirroring how he used to gaze upon his ex-wife before she fucked up his life. Then he blinked, and the moment was gone.

Ellie restrained herself from physically shaking of the feelings this brief exchange had evoked. They were Hardy and Miller, former detectives club, nothing more. She was helping a friend who was alone and ill. Just like she did nearly two summers ago.

She put down the tie, she'd been holding onto. It was expensive.

He must have noticed her curious expression. "'S a present from my daughter," he explained and fidgeted with his shirt buttons.

He'd been seeing Daisy on a regular basis and patching up his relationship with her, while she had been patching up hers with Tom.

Ellie watched him for a while, struggling to make his fingers do what he wanted them to. They both lost their patience at the same time. He gave up with a huff and she took over, finishing what he had started. She peeled the shirt off, leaving him in his undershirt and suit trousers.

"I'm not gonna take those off," she said with a smirk and pointed to his groin.

He blushed fiercely.

"Erm… I'm just gonna… yeah," he stammered, vaguely waving at his pajama bottoms that were neatly placed at the foot end of the bed.

Ellie sniggered.

"'S not funny, Millah," he whined, his Scottish accent swelling.

"Oh, it so is, Hardy," she retorted barely holding back her laughter.

He ducked his head and pressed his lips into a thin line. Ellie felt pity for him. He was no match for her in his sorry state.

"I'll make you some tea. You look like you could use some. Have you eaten today?"

He shook his head. Why was she no surprised?

"Do you have food in the house?" Doubt laced her words.

"Got some bread and salad," he yawned.

Clearly his diet hadn't changed.

"Right. I'll see what I can do," she said, leaving the bedroom.

"Millah," he called after her. She turned to find him smiling sheepishly at her. "Thanks."

Her lips curled up. "You're welcome."

She hurried to the kitchen before it could get soppier. It took some digging to find the tea and things to produce a halfway edible sandwich. Balancing the plate on her arm and two mugs in her hands, she made her way back to the bedroom.

He'd finished putting on his pajamas and was snuggled in under the blanket. His eyes were closed and his chest moved with his heavy breaths. Ellie watched him sleep for a while, amazed at how peaceful he looked, even while not feeling well. He'd changed in that time she hadn't seen him. Or maybe he hadn't so much as changed, but had finally found his way back from that bloody river.

Ellie moved to leave.

"'M not sleepin'," he mumbled and cracked his eyelids open.

 _Bloody hell._ He'd let her stand there thinking he was knocked out.

"Knob. Could have told me when I came in first," she admonished him.

The corner of his mouth pulled up and a few crinkles budded around his eyes.

She lowered herself onto the bed and placed his food on the night stand. Her pony tail fell forward, flowing over his hand that had reached for the cup.

"Your hair got longer," he commented softly, pushing it back over her shoulder.

"Your hair got shorter," she replied quietly, not looking at him.

Neither one of them said anything for a while, both hanging on to their own thoughts. They sipped their tea in silence until Ellie couldn't hold back any longer.

"Why did you come back?" she wanted to know.

He put down the cup and fell back onto his pillow.

"I missed it," was his simple reply.

"What? You're full of shit. You hated it here." Incredulity made her voice sharp.

He shrugged. "I did. But not in the end. Sandbrook isn't home any more. Wasn't going to go back to Scotland. Thought I could try out the only other place that had ever meant anything in my life."

Their eyes met. There was mutual understanding with no need for more words.

Then suddenly, a grin crept over her face.

"What?" he growled.

"Seriously though, a house next to the beach?" she teased.

"Millah, don't start." His eyes rolled up and he stared at the ceiling.

"What were you thinking?" She gently whacked him on the arm.

"They didn't tell me it was this close," he defended himself meekly, reminding her of a conversation they had what seemed a lifetime ago.

She chuckled and he grinned. His eyelids fluttered shut, but he forced them open again. He didn't last long.

"'S fine. Daisy'll like it," he slurred, half gone already.

"Go to sleep, Hardy," she told him and tucked the blanket tighter around him.

She was almost out of the room, when he muttered, "Missed you."

Ellie wasn't sure if she'd heard him right. It made her stomach flip. "Missed you too, wanker," she whispered when she closed the door behind her.

* * *

 **A/N:** This will be a multi-chapter story. I wanted to give a heads up that there will eventually be mentioning of sexual assault and some description, however nothing explicitly graphic. The only reason why I am mentioning it this early is to warn people before they possibly get invested in the story and then might not want to finish it when we get there. This was a fluffy start, but everyone who knows me must realize that it won't stay that way. Let the ride begin…


	2. Chapter 2 - Returning Home

**A/N:** Thanks for all the encouraging words, kudos and comments. Makes me happy that you're joining me in this silly excitement about this story.

A big thank you to FRANZI86 for her input and to THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS for fixing my mistakes. Whatever is left is mine.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 – Returning Home**

The setting sun bathed the sand in a golden light, framed by the darkening blue sky and the glowing amber cliffs. The receding tide lapped gently onto the shore, a distant melody of the never-ending coming and going of the sea. It was chilly, but not unexpected for the middle of March. A haunting caw of a seagull echoed over the deserted beach.

Ellie got out of her car, stretching her stiff body and soaking herself in the last rays of the sun. The tranquil surroundings soothed her tense mind after a long day in the office. Hardy was still out, and Ellie had been volunteered to fill in for him. She grabbed the bag with groceries she'd picked up on the way and began her way up the rickety stairs to Hardy's cottage. Its white walls shone in the evening light, making the house visible from miles away.

Ellie grinned. Hardy had picked one of the most prominent places in Broadchurch to hide from the townsfolk. It hadn't even taken a week for everyone to know who the new tenant of the cliffside cottage was. It would be a pleasure to inform him of the latest gossip.

She'd almost made it to the top when shouted words drifted down to her.

"How long have you been like this?" an irate voice yelled.

It sounded like a young woman. Ellie's curiosity was sparked. She slowed down and sneaked closer quietly. She ignored the pang of guilt that told her she shouldn't spy on her boss. After all he'd stalked her while she'd been in Devon. Time for payback.

"It's just a cold. _'M fine_." Hardy was as aggravated as the person he was shouting at.

"If it's just a cold, why did I find you passed out on your fucking kitchen floor?"

 _Shit._ The bloody moron hadn't told her the truth. He'd assured her that his heart was fine and that there was no need to worry. Ellie wanted to strangle him.

"I didn't pass out. I got a bit lightheaded and the thing went off. That's all." Hardy's feeble attempt at talking himself out of it was unsuccessful.

"That's not making it any better. It doesn't go off without a reason."

Ellie didn't quite understand what Hardy was referring to, but she assumed it was the pacemaker. She had to agree with the woman. It didn't make it less concerning. Ellie had reached the top of the stairs and found the sliding door half open. Two dark figures were moving about inside the dark room – one tall and lanky, the other shorter and with long hair. Both had their hands firmly clasped to their hips. Something in the way the woman – or maybe a teenage girl – moved struck Ellie as familiar.

"Have you at least called your doctor back home?" the girl demanded to know.

The 'r's rolled off her tongue and it suddenly clicked in Ellie's brain. She must be Hardy's daughter.

He sat down and shook his head.

The girl stopped abruptly.

Alarmingly calm, she said, "You know what, Dad? I'm done with this. I'm done with you not telling me when you're ill, I'm done with you being so stupid about taking care of yourself, and I'm so done with you packing up and disappearing to this bloody place all the time. What's so much better about this shitty beach town than Sandbrook?"

"Daisy, please…," he trailed off, sighing.

Knowing him as well as she did after all they'd been through, Ellie picked up on the exhaustion in those two words that was probably fueled by much more than a viral illness.

"I'm going for a walk," Daisy snapped and snatched up a bag.

Ellie had crept closer to the door and wasn't fast enough to retreat when Daisy barged out of the house. The girl full on ran into her, their heads bashing against each other. The groceries she'd brought spilled all over the small terrace.

"Bloody hell! Who the fuck are you?" she cried out, shooting Ellie a deathly glare that put her father's to shame. She had his piercing eyes.

"Millah? What are you doin' here?" Hardy asked incredulously, his raspy voice shifting up in pitch.

Daisy's gaze wandered up and down Ellie, clearly sizing her up. Then an eyebrow rose toward her hairline, making her look so much like her father that Ellie felt a strong urge to call her knob.

" _This_ is the infamous Ellie Miller?" she said, her words razor sharp with sarcasm, just like her mother's.

Hardy buried his face in his palms and groaned. Daisy huffed and shoved Ellie unceremoniously out of the way. She stormed off, down the stairs, her long hair tousled by the wind, and gone she was.

Ellie stared after her, pitying the world that would have to deal with an angry Daisy Hardy who came equipped with her father's deadly glare and her mother's sharp tongue. A force to be reckoned with.

Ellie already liked her.

She turned her attention back to Hardy who was slouching on his sofa, eyes closed and forehead puckered. A dull ache throbbed behind her temples when she bent down to collect the food she'd brought for Hardy.

"She's got a hard head, your daughter," Ellie commented, rubbing the spot where they had collided.

Hardy grunted and cracked his eyelids open.

"So do you," he retorted, a smirk flicking over his tired features.

 _Knob._

"Did you really pass out?" she interrogated him while she was putting away the contents of the shopping bag.

"No," he denied, then added, "Maybe. Sort of."

Ellie returned to the living room, a frown on her face.

"Unbelievable," she exclaimed, closing the distance between them to give him a good whack on the arm.

He dodged her hand with another one of those infuriating smirks.

"Why do you have to be such a fuckwit about this?"

"Excuse me?" he piped.

"You have a heart condition. You take pills like candy and have a bloody pacemaker. Shouldn't you get checked out if you're ill?"

He stared at her as if she'd told him she had two heads and was an alien in disguise. His mouth gaped open and the frowny blinking that had annoyed her so much while working with him was back. Ellie hid a grin. There he was, good old grumpy DI Shitface.

"Nah," he snorted and scratched his stubbly chin.

"Did you not tell her that you were ill?" Ellie inquired, certain of the answer.

"I didn't want to worry her at first, and then the girls went missing, and I nearly died because of the bloody heart when I pulled Pippa from the river, and I never got a –"

He broke off when he saw her blush.

"Oh, that's not what you meant," he moaned, his cheeks taking on a rosy color as well.

"And you wonder why she's upset with you?"

He didn't dignify her admonishing question with an answer. Ellie shook her head. She wasn't even surprised.

"Did you send her a text too, to tell her about the heart?" she quipped.

"Seriously?" he growled and clambered to his feet.

It took him a moment to find his balance, and Ellie had her hand on his chest and around his waist before she knew what she was doing. An erratic beat pounded against her palm.

"Woah, Hardy. Steady there."

He clamped down on her arm, putting more weight on it than she'd expected him to. They both fell onto the sofa, an entangled mess.

Her face was an inch away from his. His eyes glossed over, worrying Ellie he might faint again. A flinch and a groan later, he was back. Ellie scrambled off of him and snagged his wrist to feel his pulse. It seemed regular enough.

Ellie looked down upon his pale and sweaty face. She'd had enough of his shenanigans.

Towering over him, she threatened with her most sincere mum-voice, "Hardy, call your doctor or I'll drag you to A&E right now. _After_ I piss in a cup and throw it at you."

To her surprise, it worked. He gestured for his phone and obediently reported to his physician. Ellie retreated to make some tea, half listening in.

"'M not going there," he protested, raising his volume.

This was followed by a minute or two of intense chatter from the other side while his pout grew bigger and bigger. Ellie watched him, fascinated by how his whole demeanor changed. Whoever that person was on the other end in Sandbrook deserved a medal for shutting up Alec Hardy.

"Fine," he growled finally and hung up without saying goodbye.

"Millah! Going to A&E. You can drive me," he ordered and shrugged on his coat.

Ellie sighed. Then a smile curled up her lips. Old habits died hard.

"Nice to have you back, sir," she said, a much happier feeling warming her stomach than it should have.

* * *

Miller dropped him off at the bottom of the hill that the house was nestled in. It was pitch black that late at night. The wind had picked up and tugged on his coat, ruffling his hair. His gaze wandered out over the dark grey sea. The surf was welling up and clouds piled at the horizon. A storm was coming.

Hardy felt small, surrounded by the forces of nature and once again confronted with the vulnerability of his own treacherous body. It had been a while since his last hospital visit and he had almost forgotten how jarring it could be. They had run some tests on him, given him IV fluids and some additional medication to settle his bum ticker. He'd met a familiar face, the cardiologist who'd taken care of him when he lived in Broadchurch for the first time. The doctor didn't hold back how surprised he was that Hardy was still walking and breathing after all the stunts he had pulled on them. Hardy had kept his stoic face, letting everything wash over him. The only thing he wanted to do was get back home and talk to Daisy. She hadn't replied to his text, but he hoped she knew that he'd done the reasonable thing and gone to get help.

Miller didn't make any move to leave until he barked at her to go home and take care of her children instead of his grumpy old arse. He did thank her though. Then he stumbled up the stairs in the dark, tripping more than once.

 _Bloody hell._

Ellie didn't leave until she saw the lights go on in his house. She'd fussed over him ever since the first sign of the cold. A fiery debate was going on inside him if he actually liked it or not. Not being alone wasn't the worst when he was feeling more miserable than he had in months.

Daisy had waited up for him.

"Don't you ever do that again, Dad," she greeted him quietly.

Hardy lingered at the door, hiding in the darker part of the room.

"I can't guarantee it, darlin'. The pacemaker and ICD can only do so much," he replied, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck.

"That's not what I meant. I'm fully aware of that," she said, frustration making her sound so much older than she was.

She stood and walked over to where he was seeking refuge in the shadows. She gently placed her palm over his heart and made sure he didn't look away.

"No more hiding stuff. No more not telling me when you don't feel well. No more tough guy bullshit."

She held his gaze until he cupped her hand in his. "You worry too much."

The words didn't sit well with her. An angry fire gleamed in her irises when she ripped her fingers away.

"You don't get it, do you? Not knowing is worse. I can't deal with it. It drives me bonkers to think that you were sitting all alone in this house and who knows what could have happened. Can't you understand that?"

"I wasn't quite alone," he muttered under his breath.

Miller had made sure to check in on him several times a day. She'd nagged him to eat, drink, and take his medications until he wanted to chuck his phone into the ocean.

Daisy's eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything. He was sure his words had been filed away for a later time, but for now other things were on her mind.

"That's not the point. You've shut me out ever since the bloody Sandbrook murders. You've lied to me about everything and I still have no idea why. It's been four years, Dad. That's a long time to keep secrets from an adult. But for me, it feels like a lifetime," she ended her argument.

Hardy looked down upon his daughter who had grown into a woman while he'd been gone. He'd missed it. The hole that the absence of his daughter had ripped into his heart had never been fully filled, even after he'd gone back to Sandbrook to be closer to her. He knew why. They couldn't heal until the last thorn was torn from the festering wound.

He'd returned to the place he'd hoped he could make his home again, but he'd been sourly mistaken. The hushed voices and rumors kept following him, despite the conclusion of the trials and the secret about Tess' role trickling out into police circles. His face would always be connected with what had transpired, no matter how long ago and whose responsibility it ultimately had been. Accusations that he had covered for his wife were flying and general resentment smoldered behind every sham friendly smile.

He hadn't cared so much though, as long as Daisy was willing to rekindle their relationship. It was working, but he had to pay a steep price. He had to endure Tess' desperate games and manipulations. She'd managed to make his life a living hell, and in the end he'd wanted nothing more than to leave Sandbrook to get away from it all, to distance himself from Tess' vitriol. To think that once he'd desired to rebuild that family that he had lost pained him now. He'd come to Broadchurch to find solace for his battered soul but also the strength he needed to rip that last thorn out.

If he told Daisy the full truth now, Tess would never speak to him again. If he held back, Daisy would never find peace. And he would never be able to return from the river.

This time, the choice was easy.

He trudged over to the sofa and fell heavily onto the cushions. He patted the spot next to him.

"Sit. We need to talk," he invited her quietly.

A long conversation, many tears, and equally as many hugs later, things had finally been put out into the open. In that dark night, in a house at the beach where a young boy had been murdered and in the shadows of these cliffs that had changed his life forever, he'd found the courage to explain his actions after the pendant had been taken. He told her that he'd been convinced he was dying and wanted her to be safe. He told her about how ill he'd been and how he didn't want to burden her. He told her about how unbearable life had become in the place he used to call home after everything had happened. He told her about why he'd come to Broadchurch in the first place.

Not unexpectedly, she was livid. She'd never yelled at him as much as she did that night. He took it bravely, and in the end they both agreed. It had been a shit plan.

And then lastly, he told her about her mother's betrayal.

Her anger at him was nothing compared to the storm that raged in his daughter when he confessed to her whose car the evidence had been stolen from and why it had been unattended. Hardy would never forget her glowing eyes in a face that changed from pale to bright red within seconds.

She didn't say a word, chomping on her lower lip as if it was chewing gum. Then she jumped up suddenly and ran out of the house.

Hardy scrambled to follow her into the night.

She was faster than him and had the advantage of knowing where she wanted to go.

He hurried down the stairs, scanning his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something silvery, up on the path to the cliff. He squinted through the dark and could barely make out her figure. The moonlight reflected on her light colored hair and it shone like a beacon.

Swearing loudly, he staggered onto the path. After losing his footing several times, he pulled out his mobile. The small but bright light was good enough to avoid breaking his neck. He didn't want to think about what his doctors and Miller would have to say once they learned about his nightly adventure.

Drizzle caked his hair to his head. He called her name several times, but the wind ripped the words off his lips before they could be heard by anyone.

By the time he'd reached the top, he was utterly out of breath. A coughing spell shuddered through him, forcing him down onto his knees. It was times like this when he seriously loathed his body. At least his bloody heart was being kept in check by the pacemaker.

"I hate her," a voice came out of the dark void.

Hardy lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. Daisy was right behind him. She struck up a circle around him, in a desperate attempt to walk off her agitation. Hardy knew better than to tell her to stop. He sat back on his heels and followed her with his gaze.

"How could she do that? How could she let you take the blame for all of this? Did she know how ill you were?" Daisy stopped her restless pursuit and fixed her eyes on him.

Hardy nodded, not trusting his voice.

"And she left you to deal with all this shit?"

"Daisy, it was my choice, my plan."

It had been, but Tess more than willingly had gone along with it.

"Why would you protect her? She dishonored everything that meant something to you – marriage, work, family."

Hardy seized Daisy's forearm and pulled her down to the wet grass, right next to him. He found her eyes.

"Darlin', I didn't protect her, I meant to protect you," he corrected her, his voice as soft as it ever could be. "I did not want for you to grow up with a parent who you hate and who can't provide for you. Do you think you can understand that?"

Her silence was only interrupted by the sound of the distant waves and the howling wind. Hardy scanned her face for any sign of comprehension. He couldn't sure in the dark.

It was freezing and Daisy's teeth began to chatter. She'd run out, only wearing her thin sweater. His cold fingers fumbled to take off his coat which he draped around her.

"Dad, you need your coat," she protested, wiggling herself out of it.

He pulled it tighter and gave her a smile. "No, I don't. All I need is for you to believe that I will always do what's needed to keep you safe and unharmed. It doesn't matter what happens to me. You're the only thing that matters," he assured her with the utmost sincerity.

His thumb brushed over her cheek where rain drops blended with her tears. Then he pulled her into a warm embrace. She molded against his body, burying her face into his chest. She was still shivering. So was he. His reserve was fading fast. He had to get down the cliff before he'd tumble off of it due to exhaustion.

He contemplated lying to her about why he needed to get back quickly, but then remembered his earlier promise.

"Daisy, I need to go back to the cottage. Now. Before I can't make it," he let her know and rose onto his wobbly feet.

Daisy's face was a canvas of guilt. She slung his arm over her shoulder and together they weathered the climb down in the oncoming storm. Soft rain drops quickly turned into a hard, whipping assault of water. They slipped and slid down that muddy hill, the ocean below them crushing against the cliff.

They quite literally fell through the door of his new home, soaked and drained from the exertion.

"Those paths are a bloody death trap," Daisy complained while peeling off Hardy's coat.

Lying on the floor and panting, Hardy burst out in laughter.

"What? What's so funny?" she groused and tossed the wet piece of clothing at him.

It landed on him with a wet thud, unloading more frigid water on him.

"I said the same thing to Ellie Miller when I first came here."

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Dad, that's not funny. People fall off those cliffs."

He moved under the drenched coat and sat up. A puddle was steadily collecting more and more murky drops. A mischievous grin lingered on his lips, when he revealed,

"I told her that the cliff is a perfectly fine place to chuck a body over."

Daisy gaped at him. "You didn't?"

He nodded, hiding his amusement. She whacked him on the arm.

"Oh, my god. You're awful. And she still talks to you?" She seemed genuinely shocked.

"Yup." A broad smile brightened his face. "She's got to. I'm her boss," he added smugly.

"Wow, look at you, trying to be all witty. What sort of drugs did they give you at the hospital?" she teased.

Hardy took courage in the lighthearted banter. There was one more thing he needed to clarify with her. He took her ice cold hands in his.

"Daisy, I didn't come here to leave you. I tried everything to stay in Sandbrook, but…" he hesitated, struggling for the right words that wouldn't make her hate her mother even more.

He sucked in some air and let it out when he continued, "You asked me what's so special about this shitty beach town. I can't give you an answer to that question. The only thing I know is that when I realized that being in Sandbrook wasn't good for me, that things had become worse than I could bear, there was only one other place I thought of going to. Here."

Daisy's searching eyes met his.

"All these years I believed that you had left us, that you had left me behind because you didn't care enough. And I couldn't have been more wrong. Why did you let me hate you, Dad?" she asked with a quiver in her voice that tugged on Hardy's heart.

He pulled her close again, cradling her wet body against his.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'. It was a mistake," he whispered into the crown of her head, taking in the faint scent of honey and grapefruit of her rain-soaked hair. His tears dripped on her locks while hers dripped on his shirt.

They sat clinging onto each other until their chattering teeth and their shivering bodies reminded them that they were soaked to the bones and were slowly turning into icicles.

Daisy wiggled out of his arms and stiffly got up. Hardy was so frozen that he barely could move. Groaning, he accepted her stretched out hand and after the third attempt he was on his feet. Daisy ushered him under a hot shower and then to bed.

She sat down on the edge of the mattress, handing over a mug of hot tea.

"I have one more question, Dad," she said, straightening out the fine crinkles on the sheets.

There was a glimmer in her eyes that Hardy couldn't quite place. He blew away the steam and peered at her over the rim of the cup.

"Which is?" he prompted when she didn't continue.

"You and that woman, Ellie Miller…" – Hardy's heart skipped a beat – "Did you have that affair they accused you of?"

"No. We did not," he replied firmly.

"Was there anything going on between you and her after her husband was arrested?"

"Don't be silly," he avoided a direct answer.

"Mum made some comments, that you seemed very…" – there was a slight hesitation – "… enamored with her."

Hardy wondered what words Tess really had used, what ideas she'd planted in Daisy's head.

Sighing, he set out to explain a relationship to his daughter that he couldn't even explain to himself.

"When I came to Broadchurch, I was very lonely, Daisy. No one wanted anything to do with me. I was tainted by the Sandbrook murder case and my failure in solving it. When the boy was murdered, I felt it was my penance to close the case at all costs. Miller told me it wasn't worth killing myself over it, but to me it was. I solved it, but it destroyed her life."

Daisy was listening with wide eyes, her fingers curled into the sheets. It wasn't easy to confess to her that he had cared so little about his life at the time.

"I saw her change, just like Sandbrook had changed me. And I couldn't bear the thought. I was very ill at the time, and when Joe Miller's case went to trial, I asked Ellie for help. I couldn't go on by myself and in a way I think she couldn't either. It helped her to keep her sanity during the worst time of her life. For once that bloody case was doing something good. She solved it. It wasn't me. She figured it all out."

A proud smile flicked over his lips. Daisy squinted at him, a question on her face.

"There was nothing between us, Daisy," he emphasized again. "She didn't even want to hug me goodbye when I left."

"Did she now?" Daisy commented with a pregnant undertone. "But yet she's been taking care of you while you're sick."

Hardy huffed. "She likes to fuss. That's it. Nothing more."

"And you let her," Daisy stated with a knowing grin.

"What? No," he protested the implication her words had. "'S not what you think it is, Daisy. She's a friend. Maybe, hopefully…" he broke off, groaning and dragging his hands over his face.

The memory of Miller's long curls grazing his skin nuzzled its way into the foreground of his thoughts, reminding him of that nervous knot in his stomach ever since he'd come back and had laid his eyes on her again. The tips of his ears were burning.

 _Fuck_ , he swore silently.

Daisy's face was suspiciously neutral which made it worse than any snarky remark could have. The corner of her mouth curled up. Then she leaned over and brushed a goodnight kiss on his forehead.

"All right then, Dad. Just a friend. I'll take that for now," she said when she turned off the lights.

Hardy stared at the ceiling in the dark. A previous tenant had left fluorescent stars behind and Hardy began counting absentmindedly.

' _Just a friend'_ – Daisy's words echoed in his sluggish mind. He'd gladly take that. _For now,_ was the last conscious thought he had before he drifted off to be embraced by Morpheus arms.

* * *

 **A/N:** At first I wasn't planning on writing out that conversation between Hardy and Daisy but I quickly realized that I had to. I hope you will forgive any possible overlap with "The Ocean Breathes Salty". The two stories are very different, but Hardy's and Daisy's history is still very much based on my head canon about what happened in Sandbrook which is chronicled in "A Million Holes Poked In The Soul". More to come…


	3. Chapter 3 - Change of Tunes

**A/N:** It's been ages… life's been tricky. Anyway, I am happy to finally be able to post something… this one is unbeat'ed so all mistakes are mine. Also, bear with me, I'm trying something I'm not that familiar with – skipping time in a story… Thank you to FRANZI86 for bouncing off ideas about the title of the chapter and thank you KTROSE for flailing... (see notes at the end).

* * *

 **Chapter 3 – Change of Tunes**

 _Late Spring 2016…_

The week after he'd been struck down by Fred's vicious virus, Hardy returned to work.

He'd gone for a walk in the wee hours of the morning, right when the sun tickled the ocean with its first rays. The steep climb up the cliff seemed less inviting while he was still recovering, especially after his recent nightly adventure with his daughter. Instead he'd ambled along the coast line, accompanied by the roar of the waves and the cries of the seagulls.

Daisy had left two days ago, having to return to school. He missed her already. Despite the heartache his confession had caused both of them, he felt liberated. The iron chains cast out of lies were gone, and they could finally heal. For once in these past years, Hardy was content with a decision he had made. The fall out was certain to come, but Tess and everything she stood for was so far away, it barely touched him.

He blinked into the morning light, shading his eyes with a steady hand. The never-ending sky stretched out over a tranquil ocean. A smile stole over his face. Maybe it wasn't only Daisy who was going to like living this close to the beach. His fingers crept toward where he usually kept his sunglasses. It found an empty pocket.

Hardy's smile grew wider. Hopefully wee Fred was enjoying his latest possession. The lad had grown into a tiny person since he last saw him nearly two years ago. He must be about four now, give or take a few months. A beautiful age. Images of endless tea parties, hair grooming, days at the beach, building castles for Princess Daisy, and dressing up as Sir Alec floated through his mind. It had been a marvelous time, so innocent and sheltered from the cruelties of the world.

Hardy let all the salty air out of his lungs. No use in dwelling in days long gone by. Time to look at what was ahead, at all the things that could be, maybe with a chance for less heartache. His fingers combed through his hair, tightened his tie, and trailed down towards its dangling tip. The cloth around his neck didn't feel as suffocating as it had for the past years.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out of his suit jacket and held it at arm's length to decipher Miller's text: **Stop scaring the seagulls.**

He scanned the far end of the beach, and sure enough, he could make out Miller's silver car.

He typed a reply: **Are you stalking me again?**

 **I deny everything.**

Hardy grinned. Another message came through: **Need a ride?**

His habit of walking everywhere in Broadchurch sat deep, but he didn't mind driving with her.

 **Yep. Be right there. Gotta take care of that particularly pesky seagull first.**

She wrote back promptly **: Hardy, your jokes are pathetic. Don't even try.**

 **Ah, stalk me and insult me. I see where this is going.**

He was pleased with his comeback.

 **Seriously? Stop trying to be witty and move your sorry arse to my vehicle. I have to drop off Fred at nursery school.**

Hardy pulled up an eyebrow. He'd almost reached the car, while typing away.

 **Oi, watch your language DI Miller. I'm still your boss.**

"Move your sorry arse here now. _Sir!_ " The words echoed across the beach.

His head snapped up. Miller was standing next to her car, holding up her arm and tapping her watch. He shook his head and hurried toward her. She'd already gotten back inside and opened the door for him. He folded his lanky body onto the passenger seat.

Fred greeted him with an enthusiastic squeal.

"Hadee! Look, I'm you!"

Hardy turned while buckling the belt and smiled when he saw Fred's face sporting what used to be Hardy's glasses. His wild curls bounced around his temples, and he wore the widest grin Hardy had seen in a while. The boy was utterly pleased with himself. It was a heartwarming sight.

Not so for his mother. Hardy caught a glimpse of Miller's horrified expression at the notion her sweet son could be anything like Hardy.

"Nah, wee Fred. You look much better with those. Don't frighten your mother like that." He paused, then he added, looking up at Miller, "In a few years though, once you grow a beard-"

Her fist collided with his upper arm, shutting him up.

"Hardy, don't push it, or I'll kick you out of the car while breaking the speed limit."

"Oi, aren't we in rare form this morning?" he retorted. "You haven't used that one before. I'll add it to my list."

A grin twitched over her lips, and Hardy looked as pleased as Fred did.

They rode in silence, listening to Fred's happy commentary about the world around him. Hardy stayed in the car when Miller walked Fred inside the nursery school. His gaze lingered on the backs of the curly headed figures, hands intertwined and swinging their arms.

He didn't want to think of all the countless times he'd taken Daisy to school, but of course his mind excelled at ignoring his desires. Soon enough he was lost in a world of memories, his eyes staring onto a life long gone by.

The thud of the closing car door jolted him back.

"Quit moping, Hardy," Miller ordered him.

He didn't bother rolling his eyes, but rewarded her with a grunt. He was pushed back in his seat when she peeled out of the parking lot.

"Is Daisy still at your house?"

"No," he sighed. "She left a couple of days ago. For school."

Hardy gripped the door handle tightly. Miller had taken another sharp corner with more speed than he thought it possible. A sideways glance confirmed what he'd feared. She was enjoying her rowdy driving style.

So was he.

"Did the two of you talk it out?" Doubt was lacing her voice.

"Yup." His monosyllabic answer wasn't good enough. Not that he believed he'd get away with it, but they wouldn't be who they were if he'd poured out his soul without letting her nag him.

"Seriously? You wanna be like that?"

The tires squealed when she came to a halt in the parking lot.

"What do you want from me, Miller?" he growled while unbuckling his belt and taking comfort in old habits.

"A proper conversation."

She turned to face him. Her brown eyes pierced through him, and the tips of his ears began to burn.

"We have a choice here, Hardy. Either we continue with your broody bull shit shtick and me getting aggravated because you're being a fuckwit, or we'll try to behave like friends who properly talk to each other. You tell me what it's gonna be."

He tugged on his ear lobe which was now on fire. She had said friends.

 _Bloody hell._ Why did that sound so unsettling? Wasn't that what he had told Daisy, that they were friends. When he had taken her to the train station, she'd left him with the warning not to chicken out. She knew him better than he knew her.

"Erm…" – his Adam's apple bounced up and down – "Friends would be good," he murmured into his beard, not daring to look at her.

Her response was a whack on his arm and a heartfelt "Knob". She climbed out of the car and stormed off towards the station's entrance. He hurried to follow and caught up with her right before they reached the doors. His hand at her elbow stalled her.

"I still owe you an answer to your question."

"Quite right," she said and crossed her arms over her chest, challenging him with a glare.

A uniformed officer walked by and eyed them with way too much curiosity for Hardy's taste.

"Not here. Wanna have… tea later?" he suggested hesitantly.

"Good. You're buying," she informed him with a smirk and left him standing in the cold morning breeze.

He took in a deep breath of the salty air and let his gaze wander over the harbor. Boats were bobbing up and down, making him nauseated simply by existing. He raked his fingers through his wind tousled hair and tugged down his tie that had been blown about. A smile curled up his lips. He'd come to Broadchurch twice before. He pondered the events of the first week since his arrival. At least for now, nobody had died. _'The third time's the charm'_ was what they said. Maybe they were right.

* * *

 _Early Summer 2016…_

Ellie jerked awake, patting for her buzzing phone in the dark.

"DI Miller," she slurred into the speaker, her eyes closed and refusing to wake up.

"Your turn," a Scottish growl rumbled into her ear.

"Ugh, bloody hell. I went last time," she argued, banking on his sleepy mind not thinking fast enough.

"Bollocks. You didn't. You fed me a bullshit story about Fred and the childminder and made me go."

"Speaking of Fred-"

"Millah! Don't lie to me. I know Fred's having a sleep over at your sister's house. I saw them on the beach at sunset."

"What were you doing on the beach at sunset?" she yawned. And what had Lucy been doing with Fred there so late? She rolled over, squinting at her alarm clock which innocently displayed 5:17 A.M.

"Don't distract," he ordered, sounding more and more Scottish with every word.

Ellie swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She wouldn't get out of this one. Especially not as Hardy had returned only yesterday from working on a case up the coast. All the while he'd been gone, he'd sent her messages complaining about the incompetence of the coastal police force. It had been more entertaining than it should have.

"Fine. I'll go," she conceded.

"'S about time," he whined.

Ellie slipped on her trousers and blouse, phone propped under her chin.

"McBride's or Chandler's?"

"Neither one. He's got a new hunting ground. Carl Foster called it in."

"The Foster Estate? But they don't even have any pheasants…," Ellie trailed off, giving up on making sense of Nige's nightly endeavors.

"Oh, what do I know. Just go there. Find Nige, the numpty, and book him for the day."

Hardy's exasperation echoed through the line. There was something else though.

"You all right?"

"'M fine."

"Liar."

"Millah, don't start," he protested meekly.

"Tess?" she speculated.

If work wasn't making him miserable, it had to be his ex-wife. Ever since he'd told his daughter the truth, the woman was out for blood.

A grunt confirmed her suspicion.

"Am I right in the assumption you don't want to talk about it?"

Silence followed her question. He'd been evasive to the point of being ridiculous when it came to his dealings with the woman who had eagerly assisted in his life falling apart.

"She put in for a revision of the alimony agreement and the child maintenance. Says I should pay more, now that I'm DCI and she's been stripped of her rank for good."

Ellie froze on the stairs, dumbfounded by Hardy's uncharacteristic revelation.

"Geena, my barrister, advises I should take Tess to court in order to – and this is a quote – 'annihilate' her. According to Geena, it would be her pleasure to 'rip Tess' guts out and feed them to her'."

Ellie's eyes grew wide. She would have never thought it possible, but Hardy sounded intimidated.

"I want that barrister," she stated emphatically. "If you hook me up with her, I'll deal with Nige for the rest of the year."

Joe had never agreed to the divorce, and Ellie was tied up in what seemed a never ending legal battle. She needed someone like this wonder woman who could frighten Alec Hardy and was willing to vanquish her opponent.

"Seriously? You're trying to bribe your superior officer to get proper legal advice?" Hardy had recovered from his moment of weakness.

"Yeah. I'm done with Joe's shit and-"

"Ellie, you don't have to do that," he interrupted her softly. "All you need to do is ask me for help. I'm here."

She sank down onto the steps, her knees turned to jelly by his simple offer of friendship and support. Her bottom lip wobbled, and a few stray tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Miller?"

How he could put so much concern and caring into two syllables was a mystery to her. She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks.

"I'm fine," she attempted feebly to reassure him.

"That's my line, and you can't fool me."

The rustling of sheets crackled through the phone speakers, followed by the sound of a squeaky mattress. Metal clicked against metal.

Ellie frowned. "What was that noise?"

"My belt." His answer was muffled and more shuffling ensued.

What the hell was he doing?

"Your belt?"

An image of Hardy's long fingers fumbling with the belt buckle intruded her thoughts. It was an annoyingly distracting image.

"I'm getting dressed, Miller. You'll stay home and get some rest. I'll deal with Nige."

She stumbled to her feet.

"No," she protested. "You haven't even been home a day."

"Millah, don't fuss."

"'M not fussing," she denied, while walking down the stairs.

Hardy sighed. "Yes, you are. You have been ever since I got here."

Ellie stopped, her foot hovering over the last step. _Bloody hell_ , he was right. She would never admit it though.

"Don't be daft, Hardy." Her dismissal sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

He had the nerve to snigger, and she wished he'd be standing next to her so she could give him a good whack on the arm.

There was a bone-chilling squeaking noise, and Ellie cringed.

"God, when will you fix that bloody door?" she snapped.

"When you bring me the deck chair you promised," he retorted, his words accompanied by the breaking of the waves on the shore.

"Quit being a smart arse and go back to bed, Hardy. You need your beauty sleep or you'll be too miserable to be around humans. I'll take care of it."

"Millah, stop wittering. I'm already on my way," he blew her off.

Ellie snatched up her car keys. They dangled between her fingers and a smirk stole over her lips.

"Hardy, have you made a plan for how you'll get to the estate?" she asked with feigned innocence.

A caw of a seagull was the only answer she got.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

The seagull sang its lonely song.

"Hardy?"

"What?" he grumped.

"Good morning," she piped cheerfully, well knowing how much it would irk him.

The line went dead. A broad smile brightened up Ellie's sleepy features when she locked the door. Her wild curls danced in the breeze that blew over from the sea. What could be a better start to the day than apprehending the local serial pheasant killer together with DCI _'formerly-known-as-Shitface'_ Hardy? Not much, Ellie told herself, not much.

* * *

 _Summer 2016…_

"Beth, can I bring someone?" Ellie asked nervously.

Her hands shoved into her pockets, she observed her friend's body stiffen with the sudden attention to this matter.

"Of course," Beth said, slowly turning toward Ellie.

Her face was a canvas of her emotions bubbling inside. Curiosity and mischief warred with anger over the idea that Ellie could move on this quickly while Beth had lost everything.

"It's not what you think. It's not _who_ you think," Ellie was quick to emphasize.

"It's not?"

Ellie's cryptic answer threw Beth off. Her puzzled expression didn't last long.

"It's Hardy."

Beth's mouth gaped open.

"Hardy? As in DI Hardy?"

"Yup. Hardy. As in Detective Chief Inspector actually," Ellie stammered, her cheeks heating up.

She wasn't sure if the disclosure that she intended on bringing her boss and not a presumed lover to Danny's memorial party had made it any better.

Beth stilled and glared at Ellie.

"So, it's true after all. You've been lying to me-"

"Beth, don't be ridiculous. Hardy and I never had an affair and we certainly don't have one now."

Doubt glittered in Beth's eyes.

"Please, believe me. After he left Broadchurch, I only met him once during the Sandbrook murder trials. I haven't seen him since until he showed up a few months ago to piss on my turf again."

"Why do you want to bring him to Danny's memorial celebration then? It's not like he is one of us."

"He arrested Joe," Ellie stated quietly.

It wasn't easy to say those three words. Easier though than what she had to say next.

"I don't think I would ever have…," she trailed off and bit on her lip.

Her words hung between them until Ellie's shoulders slumped under the unbearable weight they carried.

"Never mind," she muttered. "Maybe it's best if I don't come either."

Ellie grabbed her purse and moved to leave Beth's kitchen.

"El, wait!" Beth called after her, and Ellie paused in the doorway. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

Ellie's head whipped around and their eyes locked. Never before had Beth uttered those words. It had been three long years where Ellie had felt guilty every single day. Her bottom lip trembled when Beth pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry," Ellie sobbed into her friend's shoulder.

"I know. And so am I. You didn't deserve this," Beth whispered into her ear. "Can you forgive me?"

Ellie sniffed and looked up. "'course. And you?"

"Oh, Ellie," Beth cried and nodded vigorously.

They both wiped at their tears and smiled embarrassedly. Beth was the first to regain composure. A frown crept on her forehead.

"I still don't get why you would want to bring Hardy. It's not like he's a people's person."

"Fred adores him."

Beth's face twitched in disbelief. "You let Hardy near him?"

Looking everywhere but at her friend, Ellie mumbled, "He's more reliable than Lucy."

"You're kiddin'?"

Ellie studied her feet. Best not to mention all the times Hardy had watched Fred for her these past three months when her sister was missing in action. Beth didn't need to know. However, Broadchurch being a small town, not much could be hidden from nosy eyes.

"Oh. My. God. That was who I saw Fred with the other day on the beach," Beth exclaimed suddenly. "I was on the pier with Lizzie and I recognized Fred but I couldn't figure out who was with him. He wasn't wearing a suit."

"He does have other clothes, you know," Ellie muttered while picking at the seam of her jacket.

"And you would know how?" Beth squinted at her.

Ellie was too flustered to deflect the question. "I took care of him after I brought him back from the hospital. Someone had to make sure he didn't die from the cold he contracted from Fred."

This time Beth didn't only twitch but visibly shook herself.

"Wait. First of all, when did that happen? Secondly, why did he have to go to the hospital for a cold?" Before Ellie could answer, she added, "And what do you mean by 'die'?"

 _Bollocks._ Hardy was going to murder her. He was even more secretive about his heart condition now that it was under control.

"Erm… figure of speech?" Ellie's face pulled into a cringe.

"Seriously?" Beth's wild eyes bore into her.

Ellie sighed and gave up. "He's got a serious heart problem. When he came back a few months ago, Fred gave him some nasty virus that took him down. Knob that he is, he refused to see a doctor until I set his head straight."

Beth sank onto a chair, stunned by the news. "Since when does he have a heart problem?"

Ellie waited to see if the penny would drop. It did.

"Is that why he wasn't working during the trial?"

Ellie nodded silently, debating if she should reveal more. She didn't have to.

"Was he ill while investigating Danny's case?"

Ellie gave another curt nod. Beth frowned.

"Was he unfit for duty, Ellie?" she asked, her voice carrying a sharp edge.

Ellie swallowed. Old anger at Hardy's irresponsible behavior fought with a sense of loyalty which had grown over time. How could she answer this question without hurting either one of her friends?

Her train of thought derailed at the realization that she'd just put Hardy in the same category as Beth.

After a long pause, she settled on what seemed to be the closest to the truth.

"He nearly killed himself over finding Danny's murderer. Not only figuratively but literally."

"I heard a rumor about him having a heart attack and discharging himself from the hospital the next day," Beth said slowly.

"Not a heart attack but close enough," Ellie corrected her automatically.

She had spent too much time around Hardy and his incessant fussing over the correct terminology regarding his heart condition that it had become second nature to Ellie to do the same.

"He arrested Joe not even forty-eight hours after," Ellie informed her, lowering herself onto the chair next to her.

Silence fell. Ellie resisted the urge to fill it with meaningless chatter.

Finally, Beth sighed, "Bring him."

A smirk crawled onto her face. "He can sit at the kids' table."

Their eyes met and they burst out in laughter.

A week later, half the town marveled at DCI Hardy's abilities to reign in an unruly gang of nursery school children. When he dropped off Ellie at her doorstep that night – he'd walked her home as she was too tipsy to drive – he growled in her ear,

"Kids' table, ey? I'm onto you, DI Miller."

Ellie shrugged and flashed her most innocent smile. "Wasn't my idea," she piped.

He squinted at her, doubt crumpling up his forehead. His hand came up as if he was going to brush away a strand of her hair the wind had pried loose from her bun. He stopped shy before touching her. His face was dark, the moonlight only bathing Ellie in a silvery glow. His hand fell away from her, and Ellie's gaze followed it longingly.

 _Blimey_ , she must have had more wine than she realized.

"Thanks, Miller. That was nice," he muttered, and spun around on his heels before she could say goodnight.

She stood in the cool night, trailing his slim figure with her eyes until he was swallowed by the black. She tucked the jacket he'd given her around her shoulders to ward off the chill. It smelled of salt and sea, blending with the faint clean soap and citrus scent she had come to associate him with. A smile lingered on her face when she entered her home.

It had been nice.

* * *

 _Early Autumn 2016…_

Hardy tugged on his tie and discarded the current choice onto the pile with all the other rejects. He eyed the heap and groaned in frustration. He proceeded to change his shirt for the sixth time.

Miller had forbidden him to posh up. The Sunday lunch at the Latimer's house wasn't a suit and tie affair. Daisy had laughed at him when he revealed how uncomfortable the idea made him. With a deep sigh, he transferred his pills and wallet to the tight pockets of the pair of denims he'd settled on. He tucked down his favorite navy jumper and bravely stepped out of his house.

He was the first to arrive. Of course he would be. Ellie had instructed him not to bring anything, but he couldn't help himself. He handed over the bottle of wine to Mark who was failing at keeping a neutral face at the sight of Hardy in jeans and jumper.

Mark ushered Hardy into the sitting room, inviting him to make himself comfortable, and disappeared into the kitchen. Hardy stood in the middle of the room and had no idea what to do with himself. The sofa evoked memories of a devastated family who he'd promised justice and disappointed so thoroughly. The photograph of Danny was more than he could take. He shouldn't have come. A nudge of his ICD reigned in his protesting heart and forced him to sit to catch his breath.

"You all right?"

Beth had come in, balancing bowls of steaming food on her arms.

"'M fine," he mumbled, avoiding looking at her.

Beth put down her load and took a seat next to Hardy.

"According to Ellie that means you're not."

Hardy groaned and ran his tongue over his teeth. He'd have to have a word with Miller about this. And why was she talking to Beth about him?

"Is it…" – she hesitated – "… is it your heart condition?"

"Oh for God's sake, it's not a condition," he blurted out. "Is there no privacy in this town?" he ranted on, eternally annoyed at Miller's blabbermouth. "And yes, it's the bloody heart before you ask again. 'M fine though."

Beth stared at him with wide eyes, chewing the inside of her cheek in an attempt at hiding a grin.

Hardy thrust his fingers into his hair, exasperation growing. Where the hell was Miller? He needed back up. His wandering gaze got caught on Danny's picture again.

"I'm sorry, Beth."

Beth followed his line of sight. The grin disappeared, and a brief shadow flicked over her face.

"Tell me one thing. If you'd been healthy, would Joe be in prison now?"

He hadn't expected that question. A long chain of events tumbled through his mind, starting from before the day he'd nearly drowned while saving a girl who couldn't be saved any more. How could he answer her? He dragged his hands over his stubbly cheeks.

"Honestly, I don't know. My mother's last words to me were God would put me in the right place at the right time. When I arrested Joe Miller I thought that was it. If what happened in Sandbrook hadn't driven me here, Ellie would have had to face Danny's murder by herself."

Hardy exchanged a glance with Beth. He didn't have to voice what they both were thinking. Joe might still walk among them if Miller had been DI. Or maybe not. He'd come to know her as an excellent detective; who could say for sure she wouldn't have apprehended her husband.

"I failed you and the town. I didn't do my job properly because I felt sorry for Ellie. I should have never let her go see Joe. It was my mistake. However, it had nothing to do with me being ill."

After the pendant had been lost he'd never had the opportunity to face Tess, to let go of all the anger and disappointment that was eating away at him. When Miller had asked him to see Joe, he understood why she needed to. He should have seen it coming though. After all he'd punched Dave on the first occasion he'd had.

"Regardless, it was her who beat him up. We are all responsible for our own actions. Yes, you shouldn't have let her see him, but she shouldn't have kicked the shit out of him."

Beth stood and picked up Danny's framed picture. "Maybe you should have let her finish the job," she added, her voice steely and cold.

Hardy stared at her back, the hairs on the nape of his neck tingling.

' _I want to kill him.'_

Miller's passionate confession, uttered one late night in the office when he had caught her crying over papers Joe's barrister had sent her to demand visitation rights with the boys, echoed through his mind. He had hugged her and had silently comforted her to the best of his abilities which were lacking on his good days. The next morning he'd called Geena and given her Miller's number. That had been all he could do to help.

His own words – _'Anyone could kill under the right circumstances.' –_ had mingled with hers and he'd spent the next weeks fighting off nightmares of finding Ellie with Joe's blood on her hands. The daily report of Joe's whereabouts he was secretly receiving helped only so much to alleviate his distress.

Beth's fingers brushed over the glass of the frame and she put down the photograph carefully.

When she turned, her face didn't reflect any of the dark thoughts she'd shared with Hardy.

"Let's not have him spoil the day," she stated firmly.

Hardy nodded with his mouth open. "Right."

A smile danced over Beth's lips. "Lizzie is very excited you're here."

"What?" Hardy gave her a surprised glance. Since when had he become the local toddlers' favorite?

"Yeah, ever since the memorial celebration, she keeps pointing at any man with a beard and squeals 'Hadee'. I told her you'd come today and she did a happy dance. Not kiddin'."

Hardy had the distinct impression Beth enjoyed making him squirm with the news that her baby daughter was smitten with him.

"Am I sitting at the kids' table again?" he quipped.

Beth's laughter drove away the last lingering dark thoughts. "We'll see about that. You might get to be with the grown-ups if you behave."

He smirked. "Who says I want to?"

Beth tilted her head and squinted at him. "You don't wanna sit next to Ellie?"

"Erm… well, sure. Yeah," he stammered and tugged on his reddening ear.

 _Blimey_. Had it been that obvious how much he enjoyed Miller's company?

Beth sniggered and patted him on the arm, a knowing grin pulling up her lips. "She should be here shortly."

Hardy suppressed a tale telling groan. "Right," he squeaked, his voice jumping up an octave.

 _Bollocks._ He congratulated himself for acting like a teenager. Before he could embarrass himself more, a blond whirlwind dashed through the door and threw herself on his lap.

"Hadee, up, up," Lizzie begged.

He pulled the two-year-old onto his knees and bounced her up and down. She squealed in delight.

"Looks like you've found something to do with yourself. I'll be in the kitchen. Holler if you need anything," Beth said and left him with a smile.

Hardy glanced down onto Lizzie's excited little face. There was no use in trying to banish the memories of Daisy at this age.

"What are we gonna do, hm?" He tapped her nose with his finger and she giggled.

She slid off his legs and dragged him down to the floor where some dolls were spread out among scattered books and other toys. She grabbed one of them and shoved a book into his hand. Hardy squinted at the title and fished out his glasses. When Daisy had been a wee bairn, he hadn't needed them. He also hadn't needed a little metal box in his chest to keep his broken heart going.

"Read book," Lizzie demanded impatiently and poked him in the side.

Hardy put on the spectacles and nestled the girl into his arm. Soon enough they were both engrossed in Peppa Pig's adventures, and Hardy forgot all about the cruelty of the fleetingness of the human existence.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ellie was chasing Fred through the house. It was getting late and she'd promised Hardy to be on time. He'd been a nervous wreck about the lunch for days. Ellie's encouragement and pep talk hadn't made things better, if anything Hardy appeared more uncomfortable in his skin.

Tom was at football practice and was going straight to the Latimer house. That only left Fred to contend with. He was a fierce opponent.

"Fred! Come back here!" she shouted and jumped down the last two steps.

"I'm running away," came the gleeful reply from somewhere in the living room.

"Yeah, I know you're running away, bloody child," Ellie muttered under her breath and dashed across the hallway.

Her foot made contact with a lego piece and she yelped in pain. Still in hot pursuit of her toddler, she less than gracefully jumped onto her other foot. It landed on a neatly lined up collection of Hot Wheels cars which Hardy had given Fred for his birthday.

The wheels of the toy cars did what they were made to do. They spun, and the cars sped out from under Ellie's weight. Bereft from any footing and carried along by the momentum of her chase, Ellie sailed through the air. The gravity defying moment stretched time, and Ellie uttered a heartfelt "Shit" before her body remembered the laws of physics and plummeted to the ground like a sack full of potatoes.

Hot pain shot through her when her elbow collided with the wooden floor, but life had mercy on her. Her head thudded against the doorframe and everything went to black.

* * *

 **A/N:** So when I started this fic I thought maybe two years had passed in between Series 2 and 3 – turns out it's three years. Suddenly Hardy and Miller have way more time to dance around each other… hence this and the following chapter(s). I hope it works. I'm not very good at skipping time as my regular readers know.

Oh, and sorry-not-sorry about the cliffie – had to balance out all the shippiness and fluff with some angst, right? *ducks and hides*


	4. Chapter 4 - Don't Fuss!

**A/N:** Thanks to all the readers out there. I hope the wait wasn't too long… I enjoyed writing this chapter tremendously… a few head canon stuff from "my" Hardy's past slipped into this story… see notes at the end.

My heartfelt thanks to FRANZI86 whose input has been invaluable. Thank you to KTROSE for correcting my mistakes and flailing. Thank you to THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS who still upholds she's not invested in the characters (yea, right). And many, many thanks to HAZELMIST whose caps-lock commentary I've missed so much and who always makes me a better writer.

* * *

 **Chapter 4 – "Don't fuss!"**

Happy chatter filled the Latimer house, and the smell of a roast wafted over from the kitchen. Hardy checked his watch for the millionth time.

Ellie hadn't come yet.

Hardy didn't want to admit it, but it worried him. He wiggled his way past the crowd toward Beth.

"Have you heard from Ellie?"

Beth looked up from mashing potatoes. A frown formed on her forehead. "No. Have you?"

Hardy shook his head. His gut told him something was wrong.

"I'm going over there. Text me if she gets here while I'm gone," he hollered, walking out without waiting for a reply.

The anxious knot in his stomach drove him to race across the field. His heart's protest went unnoticed despite the pounding in his throat. Breathless he skidded onto the driveway, tripping over his own feet. He stumbled onto the vestibule, and as soon as he got closer, he heard Fred wail inside. The door was locked. He called Ellie's name repeatedly, but no one answered.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he cursed loudly while searching for a hidden key. He knew there wouldn't be one as Ellie didn't trust Joe to not make an unwanted reappearance.

"Mummy?" Fred's little voice was shrill with fear.

"Fred? Can you hear me? It's Hardy. Is your Mummy all right?"

"Hadee!" Fred was sobbing and Hardy's heart burst.

"Fred, do you know how to open the door?"

"No," the boy cried.

"Where is your Mummy?" Hardy forced his voice to stay calm.

"Here," Fred replied.

Hardy's fingers tightened around the door knob in frustration. The answer was only so useful, but what was he expecting from the four-year-old?

"Can you talk to your Mummy?"

"She's not saying anything."

That wasn't reassuring.

 _Think, think, think_ , Hardy ordered himself.

The door wasn't an option. Window then. Maybe there was an open one? He jogged around to the front, but everything was fastened securely. His frantic eyes fell on a large rock in the front yard. Hardy didn't think twice. After ensuring that Fred was at the door, he hurled the rock through the window. He hastily stuck his arm through to open it up from the inside, cutting himself on the sharp edges. He swung his long leg over the sill and climbed in. Shards of glass pricked his hands and knees when he slid over the wooden frame. One scan of the room was enough to still his thudding heart.

Heedless of the glass or anything in his way, he stumbled to Ellie's side. A small puddle of blood had formed around her head and motionless body. He fumbled for her pulse at her neck. A weight was lifted off of him when his fingertips were greeted by a strong and regular beat.

"Oh, thank God," he whispered.

"Hadee!" Fred came running and threw his little body against Hardy.

He slung an arm around the child and held him as tight as he could. With the other hand he fished out his phone and called it in. Beth was next on his list. He needed back up, not knowing if he'd be able to hold out until help would arrive. The pacemaker was frying his feeble heart and doing its job faithfully. For now.

He barely made it to his feet when the paramedics knocked at the door. They arrived at the same time that Beth, Mark, and Tom came sprinting across the field.

Chaos ensued. Beth tried to pry Fred from Hardy's arms, but the little boy clung onto Hardy, refusing to let go. Hardy whispered nonsense into his ear to soothe the frightened child, holding onto the warm body in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Mark and the paramedics were talking over each other to figure out what had happened. Tom remained mute, his jaw clenched. He held his unconscious mother's hand until they wheeled the stretcher with her still figure into the ambulance.

Suddenly it was quiet in the room. Hardy squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back against the wall. The world around him softened more and more, lines and faces blurring into each other.

"Beth… Beth," he called out weakly. "Take Fred. I think I'm going to-"

He never finished telling her that he was about to pass out. He didn't need to. His slumping body did the talking for him.

* * *

The light hurt her eyes. No, not her eyes but her brain. Regardless, she blinked through the sharp waves of agony. A groan filtered into her hazy consciousness. It took a few moments to register that it had been her own.

First, everything was white fuzz. Then a blob swam into focus. The blob turned into a blurry face. A worried and scowling face.

"Do you have to look like this?" she slurred.

The scowl deepened. "Do you have to try and kill yourself in a domestic freak accident?"

"Ugh, shut up, Hardy," she mumbled, every word sending a throb through her head.

Her eyelids drooped shut. Something landed on her chest. She cracked them open.

"Seriously?" she rasped.

"These ones have seeds. I made sure of it."

"Smart arse."

He snorted.

"What's smart arse, Hadee?"

Ellie's eyes popped open. She hadn't noticed Fred, tucked in on the chair with Hardy. Fred looked from Hardy to her. When he got a nod of approval from the grown up, he climbed onto the bed and snuggled up against Ellie.

She moved her left arm to wrap it around her son. Unfortunately, it wasn't as cooperative as she was expecting. This might have been related to the cast that was encircling nearly the full length of it.

"What the hell happened?" she croaked.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Hardy questioned carefully.

She recognized the tone and was instantaneously annoyed at him. "Don't do that," she snapped.

"Don't do what?" he whined.

"Interrogate me."

"'M sorry," he mumbled and fidgeted with his hospital gown.

He dropped his chin and pressed his lips to a thin line. Ellie's addled brain was slow to process the information that her eyes had provided her with.

"Why are you wearing a hospital gown?"

The fidgeting became more frantic.

"Erm… might have passed out after I found you."

"Mummy, you got to ride in the ambulance. And Hadee did too," Fred chimed in enthusiastically.

"Hardy?" she growled, her patience wearing thin.

"You didn't show up for lunch. I had a bad feeling and ran across the field. Probably wasn't the best idea considering that the thing had gone off earlier. When I got there, Fred was crying and you were out. You really should give me your keys. I had to break into the living room window to-"

"Wait. Did you just say you broke into a window?"

Hardy's crimson head bobbed up and down.

"Smashed it with a stone." Fred filled in the details, his voice mirroring the awe for Hardy's deed.

"I'll pay for it," Hardy stuttered, avoiding her gaze at all cost.

"Don't be daft," she dismissed his offer. "It wasn't your fault what happened."

After all it was her who had been rushing around and tripped over Fred's toys.

His head snapped up. Guilt etched lines into his pale face. "But it is."

"What? You're kiddin'. How is it your fault that I slipped on-"

"I gave Fred those cars."

Ellie and Hardy stared at each other until Hardy's scrunched up face swam out of focus again. The pain behind her eyes intensified with each throb that pulsed through her.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she moaned.

Hardy jumped into action. He helped her prop herself up, held her hair back with one hand and the plastic bowl in the other. He didn't flinch or comment as she forcefully rid herself of her stomach contents. When she was a done and a trembling mess, he gently lowered her back onto her pillow.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

"Go to sleep, Ellie," he whispered into her ear while wiping her face off. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Her mind drifted off with his gentle Scottish lilt taking her away to a happier place.

* * *

 _Autumn 2016…_

"Let go, Hardy," Ellie exclaimed in frustration.

He didn't, and Ellie was ready to beat the shit out of him if only she didn't have one arm in a cast and a sling. Her boss turned out to be the most impossible fussing person ever. Anything that had ever been said about her being overbearing paled in comparison to Hardy's constant hovering.

One week after the incident, she had recovered sufficiently from the concussion to be able to go back to work. The broken elbow would need several weeks to heal, but that wouldn't prevent her from running CID.

Or at least she had assumed so. According to Hardy, she was in no shape to render her services to the Broadchurch police force. He had made his opinion known loudly, and so had Ellie. Their tempers had risen quickly, and the staff had enjoyed the show immensely. They'd ended up being called into Jenkinson's office. It had taken her one targeted remark about a certain issue with a secret heart condition to shut Hardy up, and Ellie had left the office with her head held high.

He didn't leave her side. She'd joked about letting her off the leash to go to the ladies' room, but when he'd asked her awkwardly and with a bright red face, if in fact she needed assistance with "those sort of things", she was speechless. She didn't find her words until she discovered the extent he would go through to baby her.

Hardy had outdone himself. At first, it escaped Ellie's astute observation that Nish was using the ladies every time she was. She had to give it to her DS. She'd been stealthy.

It took Ellie a couple of days to figure out that it wasn't coincidence that she was bumping into Nish as soon as it took her more than two seconds to come back. Eventually, she cornered the poor woman and was mortified to learn how crafty Hardy had been.

It took Hardy a couple of days to recover from the shit storm she had unleashed upon him after Nish's confession. It also gave him two days to come up with a new shit plan to drive her up the wall. Which he was trying to execute at the moment.

"Hardy, if you don't give me back my car keys immediately, I'm not only going to piss in a cup and throw it at you, but do something much worse," Ellie hissed.

"Miller, you shouldn't be driving," he stated calmly, holding the keys out of her reach.

"You're not serious?" she growled and resisted the urge to jump for the dangling shiny object in front of her.

"Dead serious," he emphasized.

"Mum, just let him drive you. I'm going to be late for school," Tom hollered from the kitchen.

"Stay out of this, Tom!" Ellie admonished her son who poked his head out the door, half a piece of toast in his mouth. He and Hardy exchanged a meaningful glance which was the final straw for Ellie.

"That's it, Hardy. Get out of my house and stop fussing," she yelled and moved to shove Hardy out the door.

For a skinny fellow like him he was surprisingly sturdy. Ellie leaned in with all her weight, breathing in the salt and ocean scent that had been gradually taking over the soap and citrus that usually lingered around him.

His hands landed on her shoulders, and he gently pushed her away from him.

"Miller, look at me," he demanded.

Reluctantly, she lifted her head to meet his eyes.

"When I got ill, one of the hardest things I had to give up was driving. My doctor told me right from the start, but I was stubborn about it. Until the day I nearly killed Daisy and myself in an accident because I had an attack while taking her to school. It didn't feel good to say the least. I don't want you to have to go through that."

He took her hand, placed the car keys in her palm, and gently closed her fingers around them. A shy smile flicked over his face, crinkling up the corners of his eyes.

"I trust you to do the right thing. Bob is coming by to pick you up if you want to."

"Why can't you drive us?" she wanted to know. His heart was fixed; no reason for him to be afraid of getting in a car.

"I don't drive if I don't have to. It's the sensible thing to do. And I certainly don't want to be behind the wheel with you and the boys in the car. I've learned my lesson."

They were standing in the same spot where two years ago she'd thrown her car keys at him, screaming that she hoped he'd crash and have a heart attack. It hurt to realize how desperate he must have been to dare drive in a state that must have affected his heart at the time.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

His eyebrows pulled into a frown. "What for?"

"That I told you to crash and have a heart attack."

A faint blush colored his pale face. His hands dropped from her shoulders and found their way into his trouser pockets. He didn't look away though.

"'S all right. Was quite the arse myself that day."

He pulled out his hand and brushed his fingers over Ellie's cast.

"It's my fault that you got hurt. The least I can do is to make sure nothing worse happens. One car accident is enough, even if it was only toy cars. It was my mistake."

The puzzle pieces fell into place. Ellie berated herself that it hadn't clicked earlier. Of course he'd try to take responsibility for something he had no part in.

"Hardy, you overcompensate. You gave Fred those cars but that doesn't mean-"

"Ellie, I put them there," he cut her off.

"What?"

He tugged on his ear lobe. "When I was babysitting Fred the day before the lunch, we had a car tea party."

"A car tea party?"

"Yup. I had told him about the dinosaur tea parties I used to have with Daisy, so he wanted to do one with the…"

He trailed off when Ellie's snigger grew louder.

"A tea party? You? With dinosaurs?"

"Oh, shut up," he growled, rolling his eyes. Then he squinted at her and pointed his index finger at her nose.

"If you dare tell anyone at work about this, I'll make you chase after Nige for the rest of the year."

Ellie wrapped her fingers around his and resolutely pushed his hand out of her face. She held on to the finger, and grinning broadly, she retorted, "Not a very effective threat, considering I'm already doing that as payback for referring me to Geena."

Hardy paled. "Ellie, please," he begged.

She was about to counter when Tom's breaking teenage voice reminded her that they were not alone.

"Will the two of you stop flirting and get me to school?"

Two pairs of eyes fixed on Tom.

"What?" he questioned with feigned innocence.

"Tom, we're not…," Hardy stammered, "… doing _that_."

"No. We're not," Ellie hurried to confirm. She surreptitiously withdrew her fingers that were laced into Hardy's.

"Right," Tom sighed, exasperated by the adults. "I'm gonna walk," he announced, snatched up his skateboard, and shoved his way past a flustered Hardy.

Fred thudded down the stairs. "What's flirting, Hadee?"

Hardy closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against them. A pained groan worked its way out from deep inside his chest.

"A grown up thing that we were most definitely not doing," he pressed through gritted teeth.

Fred eyed him curiously. "Is it the grown up name for holding hands? 'cos you and Mummy were doing that."

Hardy hurriedly shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, and Ellie hid her healthy arm behind her back. He shot her a desperate glance, begging to be rescued from Fred's inquisitive mind. Ellie had no urge to do so, enjoying the show in front of her.

"No, wee Fred," Hardy sighed. Redness had crept from his ears to his cheeks.

"Okay. So what is it then?"

Fred wasn't one to give up easily. Once his inquisitive brain had latched onto something, he needed to know. There was no escape for the squirming Hardy.

"It's when you…" – Hardy struggled for words and faltered. His gaze darted to Ellie and his Adam's apple jumped up and down. "Honestly Fred, I'm useless at it." He caught sight of Ellie's wide grin and added hastily, "Useless at explaining, I mean."

Ellie snorted a chuckle.

"Thanks, Miller," he hissed.

A honk outside announced Bob's arrival, and Hardy sighed in relief.

"Saved by the bell," Ellie said with a smirk and ushered Fred to put on his shoes.

Hardy didn't dignify her with a reply. Instead he snatched her coat from the rack and helped her into it. He had already taken possession of her purse before she could even reach for it and slung it over his shoulder to free up his hands for Fred's backpack and lunch box.

"You should accessorize more, Hardy," Ellie quipped. "It suits you well."

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, his eyes widening, but he kept his mouth shut. Fred had run outside, excited about the ride in the police car. Hardy stormed after him, loaded with the various bags of the Miller family.

Ellie traipsed after him, planning her next move. When he opened the door for her, she couldn't hold back any longer.

"You know, it could have been worse. He could have asked you about sex."

His eyes widened in horror. She savored the moment before she dropped the bomb.

"Maybe you're better at that. Explaining I mean."

Hardy choked on a cough and dropped her purse that he was about to hand her. Ellie flashed him the most flirtatious smile she was able to muster, gracefully picked up her purse, and climbed into the car. His mouth still gaped open when Bob closed the door behind her.

"Sir, are you coming?" Bob asked.

Hardy stared blankly ahead. "No. I need a walk," he mumbled and thrust his hands through his windblown hair. Without another word he stalked off toward the field.

Ellie's lips curled up in a satisfied grin. Hardy might be rubbish at flirting, but she wasn't.

* * *

Hardy refrained from going directly to the police station. His feet took him to the pier, longing for the cold autumn breeze to cool him off and for the solitude to settle his thoughts.

He replayed the exchange in the driveway over and over again, flummoxed by Miller's not so subtle innuendo. Simply imagining facing her again heated up his cheeks despite the icy wind blowing through his hair. He kicked listlessly at a rock and missed.

"Bloody hell," he growled.

A mocking caw at his ankle tore him away from ideas he shouldn't entertain. The beady eyed seagull blinked at him and cocked its head. It took a lopsided leap closer to him and called out again.

Hardy stared at the plump ball of feathers and disease.

It took another hop and pecked at his trousers.

"What the…," he squeaked, utterly unmanly, and jumped a foot back.

The seagull followed him, red-rimmed eyes fixed on his leg. Hardy squinted down his trousers and found what had attracted the devilish bird's interest. Unbeknownst to Hardy, half of Fred's muffin was sticking to the cloth covering his shin. That solved the mystery where it had disappeared to during the morning's breakfast commotion.

"Oh, for God's sake," he cursed, shaking his leg without much success.

"Still using the name of the Lord in vain, aren't we, DCI Hardy?"

Hardy froze. Groaning, he said, "At least I'm using it, unlike so many others of your flock."

The seagull used the opportunity to pick at his trousers again. Cornered by the ferocious bird and the feisty vicar, with the foaming sea behind him, Hardy was vividly reminded of all the things he had hated about Broadchurch. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and he sank down onto a bench.

"I should never have come," he muttered, dragging his hands over his face.

"Oh, come on. It's only a bird, Detective. I'm sure you've tackled more fearsome adversaries."

Hardy hid behind his palms. "If you say so."

The vicar took a seat next to him, blocking the harsh wind that was tugging on Hardy's thin suit jacket. Hardy's body was grateful for the moment of reprieve from the cold autumn breeze.

"I hear you've been helping Ellie."

Hardy cast a sideways glance at Paul who sat there, not giving away what might be going on behind those green eyes.

"Aye."

Hardy was unwilling to reveal more. He was sure that Miller's comment would make its way around town with lightning speed. Heat rose to his cheeks.

"Did you two-"

"If you dare ask if we had an affair, I don't guarantee anything," Hardy hissed, turning to shut him up with a deathly glare.

"Fair enough," Paul conceded, not buckling under Hardy's intense eyes.

Hardy hadn't seen the vicar since he'd come back to Broadchurch. His new position had kept him too busy to seek him out. One question had been burning on his mind ever since he had found out who had set up Joe Miller in Sheffield.

"Speaking of which. Why did you help Joe Miller?" Hardy demanded to know.

Paul blinked. "How do you know about that?"

"Doesn't concern you. Again, why did you assist a child murderer to run?" His tone was getting sharper.

Paul shuffled away from Hardy. "I didn't assist a murderer but my community."

"Horseshit!" Hardy shouted against the wind, leaning closer to Paul. "You were visiting him in prison. What the hell was that about?"

Paul paled. "I thought he was repentant. I was wrong. I stopped seeing him when he plead not guilty."

"And you want me to believe that?"

"You can believe whatever you want. I know what I did and how I followed the Lord's path. When Joe came to seek refuge in the church, I sinned, Hardy. I didn't grant him shelter. I ratted him out."

Hardy frowned. What was Paul going on about? His skilled mind filled in the gaps.

' _It has been dealt with.'_

A shiver ran down his spine. The thought of Ellie facing Joe, driving him out of their home town was making him sick.

"To whom?" he asked cautiously, unsure if he wanted to know in the end.

"Mark and Nige grabbed him from the church. They brought him to the cliff top hut. I don't know what happened inside, but Beth and Ellie spoke to him. After that, we sent him on his way to Sheffield."

Hardy's knuckles had turned white under his grip of the edge of the bench. _That bloody woman._ Pride and anger over her audacious behavior warred in him. Anger won, but only out of worry over that fierce woman who didn't seem to care about what happened to her in order to keep her loved ones safe.

"What if they'd killed him, Coates? Had you thought about that?" Hardy snarled, imagining himself arresting half the town.

"Yes. I had."

Their eyes met.

"Don't give me that look, Hardy. I know you've taken a life to protect your family."

It was Hardy's turn to lose all color. His throat closed off, and he had to swallow a few times before he was able to speak.

"That's none of your business."

He prayed to Paul's God to make his servant stop. As usual, his prayers were not answered.

"That incident in Glasg-"

"No. Don't go there. Please," Hardy begged, his eyes stinging.

The fury that had been rushing through him a few heartbeats ago was washed away by desperation. His past was behind him, and he fervently desired it to stay that way.

The vicar tilted his head and searched Hardy's face. "It still weighs on you, even after all those years."

"How could it not?" Hardy breathed, slumping back on the bench.

He absentmindedly peeled off the piece of muffin on his trousers and tossed it toward the seagull. The bird darted for it and made off with his feast. Hardy's eyes followed the bird into the never-ending sky. It dizzied him and he dropped his gaze. The face of a little boy, crying and screaming for his father, swam across Hardy's blurry vision.

"Did you ever see the child again?"

Hardy licked his dry lips. "I kept track of him at first, then I lost him in the system. Last I heard was that he got adopted."

"You did it to protect your family." Paul's hand came to rest on Hardy's shoulder.

' _Anyone could kill under the right circumstances.'_

Miller had accused him of those words being a shit philosophy. They were not. He'd been forced to take the life of a violent and heinous criminal, but at the same time he took the life of a father of an eight-year-old boy. To save his wife and unborn child. Not one day went by that he didn't ask himself if there had been a different way. He would never know, but at the same time, he was also certain he'd do it again.

"Why did you say you shouldn't have come? I doubt you were referring to your little squabble with the seagull." Curiosity lightened the vicar's tone.

"What is this now? Confession to go?" Hardy snapped, not in the mood for further soul-searching with the local clergyman.

Or himself for the matter.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "You seemed troubled. I'm simply offering my help as I would to any member of my community."

"I'm not part of your community," Hardy protested sharply.

The corner of Paul's mouth pulled up. "You might be a keen observer when it comes to your work, DCI Hardy, but not so much when it comes to yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Paul chortled and patted him on the knee. "You came back to be the guardian of this community. Your home on the cliff watches over the town, just like the church does. You're invited to Sunday lunch and entrusted with the children. You're part of Broadchurch now."

Hardy gaped at him.

"And if I'm not mistaken, you don't mind," Paul ended his speech quietly.

Hardy stared at the jam and butter stain on his suit trousers. Wild brown curls and crows of happiness dispersed the dreary images of his past. He rubbed at the greasy spot and confessed, "No. I don't."

He looked up, puckering his lips. "Still don't like seagulls though."

Paul smirked. "I'll let you in on a secret. Neither do I."

The two men laughed, united in their dislike for the birds of the sea and their pledge to watch over the community.

Only when he got up did Hardy note they'd been sitting on the very bench he and Miller had been occupying when he'd encouraged Miller to stay in Broadchurch and he'd invited her to his house to share a meal with him. He brushed his fingers over the weathered wood. It was oddly comforting, a piece of his past that for once could also be a part of his future.

"I really don't mind," he repeated to himself, crinkles budding around his eyes and a smile parting his lips that hadn't left him when he strode into the station to begin a new day.

* * *

 **A/N:** It's official – I'm total shipper trash now… I've gone off the deep end… (and for those who wonder if I have been replaced with an alien imposter – I can't tell you).

A couple of notes… the story of Hardy taking a life to safe Tess and his unborn child while in Glasgow as a young DS is part of my head canon for my saga "A Million Holes" and "The Ocean Breathes Salty". And although this Hardy is not entirely the same I can't completely divorce myself from the past that I have created for him. So here and there, things will find their way into this story and I hope you don't mind. If you want to know more about that case in Glasgow, it's featured in Part 2 of "A Million Holes". Also, poor Alec encounters an old nemesis – the seagulls. There's a little story about that too. ;)


	5. Chapter 5 - Someone Else's Heart

**A/N:** I would like to use this opportunity to express my profound gratitude to four wonderful individuals who made writing this and the next chapter one of the best experiences ever… thank you my darling beta's THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS, KTROSE, FRANZI86, and HAZELMIST. I love you all!

* * *

 **Chapter 5 – Someone Else's Heart**

 _Autumn 2016…_

Hardy stared at the text message. He read it again, for the fourth time. It couldn't be mistaken.

Miller barged into his office, and Hardy dropped his mobile on his desk. She had given up knocking on his door ever since she'd had the broken arm and couldn't be bothered with it. He had let it slide, chipping away at their professional boundaries.

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Everything all right?"

Unfazed by his daggered glare, she sidled up to him and tried to peek at the lit up screen. Hardy hurriedly flipped it over.

"No. Everything's fine."

"Hm." Her narrowed eyes flicked back and forth between his flushed face and his phone.

"Millah!" he warned her, palming the handset.

"I knew it. Something's up."

"What makes you think something's up?"

"You get all… Scottish when you're flustered," she informed him.

"I get all… what?" he exclaimed, his pitch shifting up.

"Scottish. You know… _'Millah'_." She drawled out the last syllable, poorly imitating Hardy's accent.

He gaped at her, blinking in disbelief.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," she aped him, struggling to sound like him.

Hardy gave up. "What do you want?" he sighed, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses.

"Got the report on the recent possession's case. The Branford kids."

She unceremoniously tossed a file in front of him. Hardy's gaze rested on the folder. There had been days where she would have respectfully deposited the paperwork on her boss' desk.

He placed his fingers on the yellow paper and drummed a nervous tune. Were they getting too close? Had he crossed boundaries he shouldn't have? The text message he'd received when she had walked in on him might be an indication of the same problem. It wasn't a true problem though, or was it? His mind catalogued their recent interactions, scrutinizing every move for inappropriateness. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to Fred's nursery school's harvest festival with her? Or had it been wrong to watch Tom's football match the other day? What about their daily tea break? Maybe that…

Fingers snapped in front of his eyes.

"What?" he wheezed, sucking in some air through his nose and refocusing his attention.

"Blimey, Hardy, have you been listening at all?"

His blank stare was answer enough.

"What is going on with you today?"

"What do you want for your birthday?" he blurted out suddenly, unable to hold back what had been stressing him out ever since he had received Beth's text message. "I have no clue. Beth wants me to come to your party and-"

"Party?" Ellie grinned.

 _Shit._ It was supposed to be a surprise. He'd messed it up.

"Ellie, please, can you pretend you didn't hear this?" he begged, wishing he could vanish into thin air.

Miller was beaming. "Only if you take over Nige duty for the rest of the year."

"That's extortion," he growled.

Miller shrugged, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Your choice."

He fell heavily against his chair, tipping backwards and burying his face in his hands. "Fine," he agreed, his voice muffled behind his palms. He peeked out between his fingers. Miller was pleased.

"So, when is this party that I don't know anything about?"

"I have no idea." It was pathetic. He'd given away a secret that he wasn't even fully privy to.

Miller sniggered. "If you find out, will you please make an effort _not_ to tell me."

He glowered at her with little to no effect.

She patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Shut up, Millah!" he whined.

She left his office laughing, and Hardy was tempted to throw something after her. As soon as she was out of sight, he dropped his head on his desk and banged it repeatedly.

Beth was going to murder him.

* * *

"I can't come up there that weekend," Hardy let his daughter know sheepishly.

He was leaning against the frame of the glass door to his terrace. The evening sun warmed his face as he looked out over the tranquil sea.

Daisy turned around abruptly, making the deck chair creak loudly. Her scowl put his own to shame.

"Dad! Not cool. You promised to go."

 _Bollocks._ Hardy chewed on his cheek. This conversation could only go downhill.

"Something came up."

"Seriously? If it's work, I-"

"No. Not work," he cut her off. He almost wished it was. It would have been the easier explanation.

Daisy's mouth gaped open while her eyes narrowed. Hardy wondered if this was one those mannerisms that Miller insisted on being so similar between father and daughter.

"Are you telling me you have another _social_ engagement?"

He wasn't sure what was more offensive. Her incredulous expression or her tone of voice. Their eyes locked, and the seconds ticked by, measured by the ever-present roaring of the coming and going waves. She won the battle.

His gaze drifted out over the water and he mumbled, "Sort of."

She sat up in the deck chair, tense as the string of a bow.

"Who is it?" she demanded sharply.

Hardy tugged on his earlobe. Daisy hadn't run into Miller since that night several months ago. He had awkwardly dodged all of Daisy's skillful questions that had come anywhere close to the topic of his relationship with his DI.

Daisy got up and took a step toward him, blocking the warming rays of the setting sun. "Don't tell me it's that woman?"

He could have lied. Technically Beth had invited him.

"Ah, what's the point," he sighed and lowered himself onto the wall of the terrace.

He rested his elbows on his knees, letting his hands fall between his legs.

"I've been invited to a party. A surprise party." He cleared his voice. "A surprise birthday party. Ellie Miller's surprise birthday party." He had to work up to the full truth.

He combed his fingers through his hair, avoiding his daughter's glare.

"Shit."

"Yeah," he groaned.

Daisy's chortle made him look up. She flung back her long hair and stooped down. The roles were reversed. His little girl crouched next to him, just like he used to when she had been a wee child and needed support.

"When were you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Confusion pronounced his Scottish accent.

"What you should get her?"

"Get her?"

"As a gift, you numpty."

 _Fuck_. He hadn't thought about that. Sudden panic made him question his very existence.

"I shouldn't go," he whined.

"Oh, for God's sake, Dad. Don't be daft. Whoever invited you had their reasons. People don't simply invite you to shit. Not you. If they do, there has to be a compelling argument for the necessity of your presence. So you better show up," she argued vehemently.

Hardy eyed the young woman who was kneeling beside him. Her face was flushed and her eyes glittered with a zeal he'd never seen in them before. She took his hands and held his gaze.

"Dad, I want you to be happy. I haven't seen you this content and calm in a long time. You know how skeptical I was for you to come to Broadchurch. And let's not even talk about Ellie Miller."

"We don't have to," he told her hurriedly.

A smile ghosted over her face and she squeezed his hands. "No we don't have to. I have eyes in my head. This place for whatever reasons is good for you. These people are good for you. You deserve to be happy, finally."

The lump in his throat made it impossible for him to reply. A wind gust drove tears to his eyes. Or at least that was what he wanted to believe.

Daisy stood, towering over him.

"We better think of something good for your friend."

He looked up. "Thank you, darlin'."

She pulled him into a hug and mumbled into his hair, "I love you, Dad. Always."

* * *

Grey mist licked at Miller's curls. Hardy studied the little droplets that were forming on each strand which had escaped the hastily wound up bun. Her hair glistened in the night, appearing darker from the moisture.

He blinked when she whipped around. "Hardy, why do I get the feeling you are staring at me?"

He shrugged with feigned innocence, grateful for the scant light this early in the morning. She didn't need to see him blush.

"This looks like Nige," she proclaimed, her gloved fingers trailing over the edges of the destroyed fence. "Why did you call me? If it's Nige, it's your case."

Their arrangement still stood. He was responsible for Nige's nightly shenanigans; she took all the other calls which they hadn't had many of recently.

"Dunno. Maybe I was scared alone in the dark."

He'd come without his team, not bothering to drag them out for a simple case of poaching. All he needed was his DI at his side.

Miller's eyebrows pulled up toward her hairline. "Seriously? How old are you? Five?"

Ducking his head, Hardy shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "Thought you might be bored while I get to run after Nige all the time."

"I'm not bored," she protested.

Hardy hummed, poorly hiding his skepticism. She had only complained every single day in the past month about how nothing ever happened in this town. As far as Hardy was concerned, that was just as well. One morning while staring in the bathroom mirror and counting all the lines that life had dug into his face, it had hit him. He didn't miss serious crime. If small town crime was all he had to deal with for the rest of his days, he wouldn't mind. He'd seen enough heinous deeds. But then he did get called away on a regular basis to deal with the more sophisticated issues of the English West Coast's crime scene whereas Miller was left behind, hungry to have that career he already had.

The mist shifted in the breeze which tousled Miller's curls. The halo of Hardy's flashlight fell on her profile, silhouetting it against the greying morning sky.

"Hardy, you're staring again. What is going on with you?"

"Do you wanna have dinner tonight?"

 _Fuck._ His eyes widened. _Fuckfuckfuck._ He cursed the words that had escaped his mouth before his brain could curb them.

Miller's forehead puckered, and she squinted at him. "What? Bloody hell. No!"

He hadn't been that brutally rejected since the academy days. His stunned mind reverted to his fail-safe reaction; anger boiled up inside and bubbled over.

"Oi, you didn't have to be an arse about it," he growled.

"What the fuck, Hardy? I'm not an arse."

He sniffed and shot her a daggered glare.

"You're not seriously hurt, are you?" she inquired, stepping closer to him.

What was he supposed to say to that?

"Sorry. My fault. Don't even know why I asked," he muttered.

The early morning light caught in her eyes, and he could have sworn disappointment gleamed in those chocolate irises. He dismissed it as wishful thinking. The wind tugged hungrily on her thin jacket, sending a shiver through her. She looked small without her orange armor.

"Miller, where's that hideous windbreaker of yours?" he wanted to know. It was as good a distraction as any from his pathetic advances.

"Burning in hell with all the other things Joe gave me," she snapped.

Her fiery gaze met his. Not for the first time, Hardy wondered what had been said in the cliff top hut that day that Joe Miller had been banished from town by the two women whose hearts he had shattered.

In one smooth motion, he peeled off his coat, closed the distance between them, and draped his thick woolen Chesterfield around her shoulders.

"We're going out to dinner tonight," he stated firmly, holding her gaze. She opened her mouth to protest, but he hurried to continue, "No matter if you think it's a good idea or not. What else are you going to do? Sit around and brood? Been there, done that. Believe me, it gets old after a while."

"That's a bloody stupid idea. What are people going to say?"

She struggled to take off his coat, but he didn't let her.

"Frankly, I don't give a shit. But if someone needs to wag their bloody tongues, then we can tell them that two friends are enjoying a meal together."

"You know that is not what they will talk about."

"So? All the lies have already been told. What difference does it make?"

"I-"

"Ellie, we have a choice here," he cut her off, echoing words she'd said to him many months ago. "Either we continue to live our lives in the shadow of what happened or we step out from it. I didn't come back to Broadchurch to hide. Not this time. I came to give life a chance. If I want to have dinner with a friend, then I should be able to do so. And so should you."

One of his hands rested on her shoulder, his thumb caressing the groove above her collarbone. The other hand found its way to a stubborn lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear. The wind immediately blew it about again. Their eyes hadn't left each other's.

"Let me take you to dinner, as a friend. Please?" he implored her.

"It's a shit plan, Hardy," she grumbled.

He chuckled. "Do you expect anything else from me?"

A grin curled up her lips. "No. I don't."

"8 P.M. You drive, I pay."

"Seriously? You're inviting me to dinner and I'm still your chauffeur?"

"Fine. I'll drive," he gave in reluctantly. The thought provoked anxiety, but if it made her happy, he'd do it.

She tilted her head and looked up at him. "You would do that for me?" she wondered.

He tugged on his earlobe and averted his gaze to hide his discomfort. "Yup."

He didn't see her expression soften.

"I'll pick you up at 8 P.M. Don't be late," she ordered and trudged off toward her car.

A smile lingering in his eyes, he traipsed after her. Maybe he wasn't quite as useless at these things after all.

* * *

"Dad, stop fussing!" Daisy's voice ghosted through the room, distorted by Hardy's laptop speakers.

Caught in the act, he balled his hands into fists and refrained from fingering the neat bow of the gift box. Instead he picked at an imaginary speck of dust on his jumper sleeve and mumbled,

"'M not fussing."

His eyes darted to the screen. Daisy's face told a story of disapproval and amusement over her father's anxious fidgeting.

"Are you going to be like that the whole time?" she queried with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up. It's socializing. I don't do socializing," he scoffed.

Daisy laughed. "No, Dad. You don't. But much to mine and Mum's surprise you've been attempting to, and what's even more astounding is that you've been successful at it."

Hardy cringed. She had to mention Tess. Memories of sardonic remarks about his social ineptness and awkward behavior when thrown among humans left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"It seems people here have taken pity with me. Apparently I make for a good charity case," he commented, sarcasm dripping off his words.

"You're not a charity case, Dad," Daisy protested indignantly.

His ex-wife's mocking steel-blue eyes were replaced by warm and welcoming brown ones, framed by wild curly hair. Maybe he wasn't after all. The hard lines around his mouth softened into a small smile. He squinted at the screen, trying to awkwardly meet his daughter's eyes. He still hadn't gotten the hang of the crossed lines of sight on the video chat.

"Haven't you been going out with that woman, Ellie?"

"We're not _going out,_ " he corrected her hurriedly. "We had dinner together a couple of times. As friends."

Heat crept onto his cheeks, and he prayed to all willing gods that the dim light in his living room would hide it from his eagle-eyed daughter. It was to no avail.

She grinned. "Dad, you're blushing."

 _Bollocks._ Why did she have to be so observant? Bad enough that Miller had called him out on it several times during their outings.

He had taken her to a small hole-in-the-wall seafood restaurant he had discovered while travelling up and down the coast for the job. The childish pleasure he had derived from the fact that she hadn't known about it hadn't gone unnoticed, and she had teased him all the way home in the car about it. If the tally he had kept in his head was correct, they had only bickered thirteen times during their meal. In between, their conversation had been filled with sarcastic remarks about the other's food choices, hasty extinguishing of any mentioning of work, Miller bragging about Tom, and Hardy comparing wee Daisy's childhood adventures to wee Fred's. After her first glass of wine, she'd relaxed, and after her second, so had he. Mostly because she had been too tipsy to notice him staring at her rosy cheeks and those curls flowing along her lovely face. Warm contentment had spread through him, nurtured by her happy chatter.

He had driven her home. He hadn't been behind the wheel with another person in the car since the day he had nearly killed Daisy and himself. Miller had sensed his apprehension despite her inebriated state. Her soothing hand hadn't left his knee until they had pulled up in her driveway.

"Look at you, red as a lobster. I bet you fifty quid you were daydreaming about a certain DI."

Daisy's teasing words shoved him off the happy cloud he'd been floating on. He cleared his voice and sucked in some air through his nose.

"Daisy," he growled admonishingly.

She smiled triumphantly. "You can give the money to me the next time I come visit."

Hardy groaned, inwardly cursing her perceptiveness and his inability to admit to what he had been trying to ignore for the last weeks. Why was it that he excelled at stoicism and pretending to have no emotional involvement for the most part of his life, but he couldn't rid himself from that memory of those soft curls brushing over his hand and the shining light in those brown eyes? Why this bloody woman of all women?

' _You can never know what goes on inside someone else's heart.'_

He sure didn't. Not even in his own.

"Dad, I'm okay with it," Daisy said softly.

His head popped up. "What?"

"I'm okay with you moving on. I just want you to be happy."

Her kind face blurred, and a tear trickled down his cheek, getting lost in the stubble. His fingers caressed the screen, and he wished nothing more than to hold his daughter.

"Thank you, darlin'," he whispered.

"Ugh, Dad! Soppy! We talked about that." Her scolding tone barely hid her own emotions.

He passed his hand over his face, wiping away that moment of baring his soul to the outer world.

"What time is the party?" she asked.

Eyeing the screen's clock, he exclaimed "Shit!" and jumped up. "I'm going to be late."

Daisy chuckled. "Typical Dad."

"'M sorry to cut you short but-"

"It's okay. Go socialize. And wish that woman happy birthday from me."

"Will do. Bye, darlin'. I love you," he shouted at the laptop while shrugging on his coat.

"Dad, the present!" she reminded him before signing off with a broad grin on her face.

Hardy snapped the laptop shut and grabbed the carefully wrapped box. Hesitation driven by an acute anxiety attack made him linger at the door. His eyes fell on the deck chair that Miller had given him.

' _You're in a beach town now. You need one. To sit in and torture yourself while watching the ocean,'_ she had said, and planted it right in the middle of his terrace. Ever since that day, he had sat in the chair every evening that he was home and watched the sunset, pondering what had made him come back. Maybe he had finally found the answer.

He pulled down his jumper and bravely went off to engage in another torturous activity that this town had sprung upon him. He couldn't have been a more willing victim.

* * *

Ellie was good at pretending. Beth and the others never knew that Hardy had given away their secret weeks ago. She spotted him lurking in a corner, holding on for dear life to a glass filled with what looked suspiciously like kid's punch. It took her a while to wade through the sea of guests to greet him. Too many people had lined up to hug and kiss her, showering her with well-wishes.

By the time she made it toward his corner, he had vanished.

 _Bollocks._ She scanned the crowded room, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell had he run off to?

"Knob," she pressed through gritted teeth.

"Happy Birthday, Ellie," Paul said, popping up out of nowhere.

He made the mistake of attempting a timid hug. Ellie was too distracted by swearing under her breath at the bloody wanker to pay attention to the vicar, and their heads collided.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ellie. I didn't mean to…," he trailed off.

"It's all right, Paul. Thanks." Her eyes darted around, ignoring Paul who rubbed his temple vigorously.

Pain was replaced by a curious expression. "Who has you all flustered like this?" he inquired.

Ellie stilled and searched Paul's innocent face. "I'm not flustered. Just looking for someone."

Paul hummed, and his eyebrow went up. "That someone wouldn't be DCI Hardy?"

For a few heartbeats, Ellie contemplated lying. A burning sensation at her hairline heralded a full on blush, and she knew it was too late.

"He's out back. Playing with Lizzie, I surmise," Paul informed her. The corner of his mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile.

"Right," she managed and fled the scene. Paul's gaze followed her, making the hair at the nape of her neck tingle.

She found Hardy roaming the Latimer's small garden all by himself. He paced in a narrow circle, reminding Ellie of an animal in a cage. She'd seen him many times like this – one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair – restlessly meandering through the office. There was no reason why today should have been different. He had his back to her, and her gaze traveled down his slender figure. It got stuck in a place where it shouldn't have.

 _Blimey._

Her eyes were glued to his well-rounded bottom. Suddenly she was very grateful that police standards called for suit and tie as proper attire and tightly fitting jeans were out of the question. Come to think of it, that didn't help much either. As soon as she had the image stuck in her head, she couldn't help but ponder upon how _nicely_ Hardy had been filling out that suit lately.

Ellie inhaled deeply, letting the cold air help her cool off. One would think she wasn't turning forty but fourteen.

He pivoted on his heels. When he spotted her standing there and staring, he froze in his motion. Their eyes met. He was quick to duck his head.

"Happy Birthday, Millah," he mumbled, shooting her a glance from below.

Her body remembered to move, and she stepped closer. A wind gust flipped over the loose turtle neck of his navy knit jumper. Ellie had closed the distance between them and reached for it, fixing it shyly.

"So, no birthday hug?" she asked, looking up.

"Thought I don't do hugs?" he growled, his voice rough with his Scottish brogue.

"Cheeky bastard," she retorted, slapping him playfully on the arm. Her hand lingered on the soft material of the jumper.

Crinkles budded around his eyes, and smiling he said, "All right. Let's try this again."

He folded her into his arms, pressing her face against his body. His ocean scent engulfed her, while she listened to his heart racing in his chest.

"Happy Birthday, Ellie," he whispered into her curls.

Then he let her go, leaving her standing shivering in the sudden cold.

Ellie's eyes jerked around, not knowing where to look. Anywhere but his face. One of his hands had been resting on her shoulder, and now trailed down her arm. She followed his long fingers with her gaze. They hesitated at her wrist, as if reluctant to break the contact. Then they attempted to seek refuge in their usual hiding place, Hardy's trouser pockets.

Unfortunately, the jeans he was wearing didn't leave them much room. Fascinated, Ellie stared at his nimble digits, wiggling and sliding their way into those tight openings. Once they had found their way in, the denim fabric covered them snugly, providing them with the shelter they needed.

They were not the only thing that was covered snugly.

Ellie's breath hitched. She wanted to die right there and then. As if ogling her boss' arse hadn't been bad enough. The front view made her palms sweat and her face burn.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuck._ She stopped herself right there. Those were certainly not the best curse words in this situation. In fact, they made it worse.

She ripped her eyes and mind away from those unthinkable thoughts. Another chilling wind gust was warded off by the cloud of steam surrounding her. She shot Hardy a sideways glance, and to her horror spotted his crimson face. Of course, he would have noted what had caught her undivided attention. The color of their faces matched, and they were united in their embarrassment.

"Should we…," she stammered, gesturing toward the garden door.

"Yeah. We should," he agreed, clearing his voice while speaking.

Ellie hurried ahead, and he followed on her heels. They both pretended his hand wasn't resting gingerly on the small of her back.

* * *

Beth and Paul huddled at the door, spying on the two detectives.

"When do you think they will stop being idiots?" Beth wondered out loud.

Paul shrugged. "I have no idea. They seem to excel at denial."

"Oh, for God's sake. Look at them. Is he gonna hug her or what?" Beth rolled impatiently up and down on her tiptoes.

"Twenty quid he won't," Paul threw at her.

"Deal."

They craned their necks in anticipation. A smirk danced over Beth's face. "You lose."

Paul snorted. "Have you seen how she looks at him?"

"Have you seen those jeans? I would look at him like that as well."

"Beth!" Paul exclaimed incredulously.

Beth's grin grew wider. "Our grumpy detective's got quite a nice arse, if I may say so."

"You may not!" Paul protested in mock indignation. They both enjoyed themselves immensely.

"Oh, shit, they are coming back," Beth announced.

They stumbled hastily away from the door, tripping over each other's legs.

Hardy and Ellie walked into the room, passing by the conspicuous couple. Confused looks on their red faces were met by put on disinterest.

Paul whispered into Beth's ear, "The twenty quid and another twenty that they will kiss before Christmas."

"Deal," Beth mumbled under her breath, hoping she would lose.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am going to shipping hell! Whoever wants to join me is welcome… thanks for reading this crazy story. If you need a visual for the "blue jumper of lust" (KTRose) and the jeans then please find a picture of DT in the Christmas edition of 'Very British problems'. And if you wanna join Beth and Paul's pot, please feel free to do so…

To THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS – I finally got you! You may continue to yell at me… and flail.

To KTROSE – thanks for the wardrobe recommendations and the flailing.

To FRANZI86 – thanks for consulting, researching you know what, and flailing.

To HAZELMIST – thanks for the capslock, the flailing, and simply everything.


	6. Chapter 6 - Ultimately

**A/N:** Again, I would like to use this opportunity to express my profound gratitude to four wonderful individuals who made writing these chapters one of the best experiences ever… thank you my darling beta's THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS, KTROSE, FRANZI86, and HAZELMIST. I love you all!

 **Chapter 6 – Ultimately…**

Ellie walked slowly over the field, keeping in step with Hardy who was trudging along a few feet behind her. He had gallantly offered to help her with the gifts. Beth had piled them all onto him, turning him into a colorful display of ribbons, tissue paper, and a multitude of gift bags. His mumbled reassurance that he didn't mind was muffled by a large gift box which Beth had precariously stacked on top of the loot.

He only tripped twice, but he didn't lose his grip on the sizeable load he was carrying.

She ushered him into her quiet house. Her sons were already sleeping, guarded by a babysitter Beth had organized. Hardy stumbled into the living room and set down his baggage.

Ellie sent the babysitter off and joined him. Her gaze trailed over all the things that had been given to her.

"Which one is yours?" she wanted to know.

Hardy made a funny sound.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you had…" She faltered, embarrassed that she had assumed he had taken the time to get her a present.

"Erm… it's that one," he rasped and pointed at the big box which had blocked his vision on their way over.

He shuffled his feet and chewed at the inside of his flushed cheek.

Ellie's eyes flicked back and forth between him and the gift. "Did the store wrap this for you? It's pretty," she commented while gently tugging on the deep blue satin ribbon. The bow slipped open effortlessly, gliding over the eggshell colored box.

"No. I did it myself."

"Oh." That was the last thing she'd expected from him.

He must have picked up on her surprise. "It's years of being drilled by Daisy. She is a perfectionist when it comes to wrapping presents. I could never do a good enough job," he explained sheepishly.

Excitement brightened up Ellie's face. If he had put that much effort in making it presentable, she wondered what might be hiding inside. She carefully lifted the lid. White tissue paper covered the contents. A card was neatly placed in the middle. She picked it up and shot Hardy a questioning glance.

"Go on," he encouraged her, his ears bright red.

The cover was a stunning photograph of Harbor Cliff and the beach with its roaring waves. She flipped the card open. His handwriting was curlier than she remembered it from work.

 _Dear Ellie,_

 _What has been taken away from you by the horrible deeds of a person you trusted can never be replaced fully. However, the holes can be filled by something new and different. Rebuilding that layer of comfort and security that one needs so desperately can be a hard task. Many years back you gave me boots for me to walk these paths safely. Today, I give you something to keep you warm and protected from the storms to come, so that you may walk the cliffs of Broadchurch with your head held high again._

 _Happy Birthday!_

 _Alec Hardy_

Ellie stared at the words, blinking away a tear. It took her a long time to pull the tissue paper aside.

The deep blue ocean color caught her eye first, then the silky shine of the material. Her fingers brushed over the smooth fabric. It wasn't thin though. There was a heaviness to it which spoke of sturdiness and durability, a barrier that could withstand the onslaught of the wind and water of a seaside town. She picked it up, and the coat unfolded itself seamlessly. It had a well-hidden zipper to ward off the weather, and two rows of large buttons. A broad belt wrapped around its waist.

"Put it on," he said, and Ellie followed his quiet order.

It fit perfectly. The tails flowed down, hitting right above the knees, and the shoulders wrapped around her snugly. The soft lining tickled her neck. She only noticed him come up next to her when he gently pulled the hood over her hair.

She gazed up into his smiling eyes.

"There. Now the wind can't mess up your curls any more," he told her, the smile spreading to his lips.

He had gotten her a coat. He had remembered what she had told him about her old one and why it was gone. The realization that he had put effort into something he wanted to give her, that he had taken care to be thoughtful and had found this perfect gift nearly took her breath away.

"Hardy…," she began and broke off. She didn't know what to say. It didn't happen often. The tremble of her bottom lip gave away what she couldn't express.

"You're welcome," was all he said.

His hands came up and adjusted the lapels slightly. He took a last look at her, and with a gorgeous smile and a mumbled "Happy Birthday", he was off, leaving Ellie behind to face a storm no garment could ever protect her from.

Oooooo

The chill of late November had invaded the house and Ellie snuggled deeper under her blanket. Fred had curled up next to her, warming his icy feet on her calves. Her phone buzzed. She contemplated ignoring it, but ever since she had become DI that wasn't a real option any more.

She reached carefully across her son's sleeping figure and scooped up the mobile. Unlocking the screen, she fell back on her pillow. It wasn't a message she would have expected. She stared at it for a while, then read it again. And again.

She sneaked out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and took refuge in the warm kitchen. Taking another peek at the text, she decided to give the sender a call.

"Hello?" a young female voice answered after a few rings.

"Hiya, this is Ellie Miller. How do you have my number?" she inquired while putting on the kettle.

There was a moment of silence. "My Dad gave it to me. In case of emergency."

Ellie could smell the lie a million miles away. What was it with the Hardy family and being such pathetic liars when they were put on the spot?

"I don't believe you. Did you go snooping around in your father's phone?"

The girl denied it, but then immediately confessed, "Sort of."

Ellie grinned at how much Daisy sounded like her father. It seemed she had also inherited his tendency to come up with shit plans.

"Does he know you told me about Tuesday?"

"Erm… not really," she admitted.

"Ah. And how do you think he will react if I do what you asked me to do?"

She snorted. "Honestly, I don't care. All I want for him is not to wander about alone on the cliffs and brood over his sorry existence."

There was a defiance to her tone which Ellie had heard in her father's words countless times.

"He would do that, wouldn't he?" Ellie sighed.

As it stood, Hardy had plans to take the day off, most likely to do exactly what his daughter assumed he was going to do.

The water boiled and she fixed herself a steaming cup of tea. Hardy had told her about the days when Daisy had made him tea in the mornings and how he missed it. It shouldn't be Ellie who would drag Hardy off the cliffs on his birthday.

"Why don't you come?" she suggested.

Daisy groaned. "I can't. I have an important test and he knows about it. He forbade me to do anything that could jeopardize my future just to keep his sorry arse company."

"Why call me?" Ellie was curious as to Daisy's answer.

"Because you're… _friends_?"

The question hung between them, making Ellie squirm. She wondered what Hardy had shared with his daughter. Surely he wouldn't have told her about all the dinners, day trips, and tea times they had spent together? Or maybe the girl knew more about the inner workings of her father than Ellie did.

 _Bloody hell._

"Yeah, we're friends," Ellie conceded reluctantly.

A sigh of relief crackled through the line. "Can you take care of him. Please?" she pleaded. "He shouldn't be alone. It's been too often."

Ellie remembered another cold November day, three years ago, when she had watched a lonely Hardy sitting on the stoop of his blue shack.

"Daisy, can I ask you something?"

"Okay," she agreed suspiciously.

"Three years ago, when your dad was here, did you call him for his birthday?"

The girl remained mute. Seconds turned into a minute. "No. But I texted him. We weren't…" – she paused to find the words – "…talking at the time."

Ellie's heart flowed over. Daisy was right. He shouldn't be alone. Not now, not ever again.

"Fine. I'll hunt him down." Her eyes fell on the deep blue coat that was tossed over the banister. "Any ideas for a gift?"

The smile was audible in Daisy's voice. "Hell, yes."

Ellie's lips curled up when she took down the notes Daisy gave her. This was going to be fun.

ooooooooooo

Tuesday came, and as expected Hardy was nowhere to be found. Ellie had trekked all the way to his white cottage, only to find it deserted. Fog was gliding over the beach and the cliffs, making it impossible to spot him anywhere obvious. The misty air brought a bone chilling cold with it, and the low hanging sun lost the battle against it.

Ellie left the present on the terrace and slowly ambled down the stairs. Where could he have gone? There were only two possibilities – up the cliff or out on the beach. Ellie eyed the steep path which was obscured by thick white fog. He'd have to harbor a death wish to climb up there on a day like this. She turned to the beach on her quest to find the unwilling birthday child.

The wet sand clung to her feet. She should have worn different shoes in anticipation of the need to chase after the bloody wanker. Her heeled boots weren't going to take her far. She weighed her options. It was cold, but bearable. She kicked off her useless footwear, peeled off her socks, and ventured on. The ground up pebbles tickled her toes pleasantly, and she relished the feeling of her skin scraping over them.

It was easier to stroll over the part of the beach that was smoothed down by the relentless surf. She rolled up her trousers in case the waves surprised her. The fog swallowed every sound besides the roar of the ocean. No one else was around to disturb the perfect moment of solitude.

A wind gust parted the white curtain in front of her, and she caught a glimpse of a dark figure crouched on the beach.

Ellie hesitated. Maybe he had a reason why he was seeking the company of the sea rather than that of fellow humans. It struck her as odd that he'd come out here, so close to the element that still scared him profoundly.

She walked closer, now and then sighting him.

He shouldn't be alone. Being lonely wasn't good for him. It never had occurred to her until she'd seen a different side of him. The side that peered out from behind the wall he'd built around himself after the Sandbrook murders had destroyed his life. The side that had taken her to dinner when she needed a friend. The side that sparked with life when wee Fred dragged him into one of his wild games. The side that had helped her find the right person to fight Joe in court. The side that had given her not only something beautiful for her birthday, but something deeply meaningful. The side that had crinkles around his eyes when he laughed.

A pleasant warmth heated her stomach, and she stopped abruptly. Where the hell were those thoughts leading her? This was Alec bloody Hardy she was talking about; her irksome boss and moronic friend with a heart condition he ignored to the best of his abilities.

The breeze played with her locks and tickled her nose with the scent of the salty sea. Hardy's scent. Ellie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, balling her hands into tight fists. It was impossible.

"You are an idiot," she mumbled to herself.

She was almost upon him, but he still hadn't noticed her. She halted again and took in the curled up man a few yards away from her. He had pulled his knees all the way to his chest and tucked them under that blue navy jumper of his. Waves licked at his bare feet which poked out from under the knitted piece of clothing.

He was gazing out over the ocean. Whatever he saw left his face soft and bereft of all the usual hard lines in it. He looked younger than he ever had, and Ellie found herself wishing she could have known him before the years and sorrow dug so deep into him, chipping away at him, piece by piece.

She had questioned why she was here. Now she knew. She was here because she wanted to be. She wanted to be closer to him, and witness those rare moments when he carried his heart on his sleeve. She wanted to make good use of those fleeting opportunities where he opened up and let her in. She wanted more than simple friendship; she wanted that companionship which she had lost on this beach three years ago.

With a flutter in her stomach, she realized she wanted it with this man who had chosen to spend his birthday on a deserted beach and brood in solitude.

The moment she took another step, he turned and fixed his intense eyes on her. They reminded her of words he had said to her, born out of desperation and the need to end the loneliness.

' _I can't do it on my own.'_

Neither could she.

Ooooooooooooooooo

He had come out to the beach to find respite from the clutter of his thoughts and the world around him. The fog had hidden him away, and the ocean granted him the solace he was longing for.

He'd come a long way since he'd done the same as a boy.

The damp sand had soaked through his jean bottom, but he didn't mind. His knees were safely tucked under his jumper, and contentment washed through him, growing stronger with every lick of the sea at his bare feet. He curled his toes into the sand.

It felt right.

For once his plan had worked out. It was hard to believe but true. He had come back to leave his past behind and to make a new start. He was baffled by the realization that it had worked out. His gaze wandered over the grey dark sea, seeing at a future he hadn't dreamed of ever having.

It wasn't a lonely future.

His daughter was by his side, and it didn't matter she lived miles away. There were friendly faces who had welcomed him into their middle. There was laughter and joy. There were hours spent playing with children, and hours spent at a job he thought he would have to give up forever. There was respect and trust. And there was Ellie Miller.

His expression softened, smoothing out the lines the years had chiseled onto his face.

He'd forgotten how wonderful it could be when another human being showed genuine interest. He'd forgotten what it meant to be cared for and in return to care for someone else. He'd forgotten how sharing laughter with someone fostered intimacy and bonded two souls together. He'd forgotten how love could feel like.

He blinked at the word that had tumbled through his mind. It couldn't be possible. How could he dare think about such a thing? How could she ever see anything in him other than the person who had stolen her job and shattered her life? He closed his eyes. It was his birthday. He might as well indulge and make a foolish wish.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by the never-ending sky and the sea below. Another wave tickled his toes, and he let out that breath he'd been holding for eons. He was finally at peace.

On a whim he turned. His eyes fell upon a woman with wild curls flying in the ocean breeze; the same woman he had met three years ago on this very beach.

"Ellie," he whispered, the syllables carried away by the wind.

She walked over slowly, her bare feet leaving tiny footprints in the wet sand. Hardy stared at them, disbelieving that she was indeed here. But ghosts didn't leave any traces.

Without a word, she took a seat next to him, imitating his posture. Instinctively his body crept closer, sheltering her from the sharp wind.

The afternoon sun filtered through the white mist, bathing her in a warm golden light. Hardy marveled at her distinct profile, wondering how he could have ever not seen that beauty.

A smile stole over his lips and a deep sigh escaped his throat. He was a bloody goner.

"You all right?"

Her freezing fingers cupped the back of his hand.

"Yup," he replied and found her eyes. "You're cold," he ascertained quietly.

"I'm fine, Hardy," she claimed. A shudder ran through her, betraying her words.

"Don't be daft," he growled, his voice low and more Scottish than ever.

He stretched out his legs and picked up her hands. A gentle tug guided them into his jumper sleeves, their fingers tightly intertwined inside the cozy garment. He didn't let go of them, pulling her towards his warm body until their sides touched.

"Where's your coat?" he asked, his lips hovering over her ear. A faint scent of honey and lavender wafted into his nose.

"In my car. Didn't think I'd have to chase you down the beach," she justified her forgetfulness.

He hummed, content to have an excuse to be this close to her. He fumbled for his jacket and draped it over her shoulder.

Their naked toes touched accidentally, sending a tingle up his leg. Ellie left her foot there and so did he. When the next wave lapped on the shore, ten very different toes wiggled in the same tiny puddle around them.

He decided to be bold and sneaked his arm around her waist. She stiffened up at first, but then nestled her body into his embrace. He tugged her against his side, and she rested her head in the crevice under his collarbone.

They sat in silence. Hardy's heart was racing, and he feared their peaceful moment would be interrupted at any time.

"Is that thing going to go off?" she wanted to know, as if she had read his thoughts.

"I sure hope not," he groaned. That was the last thing he needed.

She moved away from him in order to look him in the eye. "I sure hope yes. It's the only thing standing between you and the grave."

He gaped at her. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. I have no inclination to resuscitate you on the beach." A mischievous smirk played over her face.

"Oh, I see," he retorted with a sparkle in his eyes. "No help for the ailing heart?"

She held his gaze and he lost himself in those chocolate eyes. "Not that kind."

His stomach flipped and sweat pooled in his palms. Maybe this was a dream and he would wake up to his dreary reality any moment.

The wind tore on her hair, obscuring half her face. Before he knew it, he had brushed it away, his fingertips trailing down her neck and then back up her jawline, until his hand cupped her cheek. The heat of her blush warmed his palm. He self-consciously dropped the hand into his lap and his chin down.

"Hardy," she called out gently.

He lifted his head. Her face was right there.

"Happy Birthday," she whispered and breathed a kiss on his forehead.

Hardy's skin burned under her lips. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he forgot to breathe.

He didn't let her move away. His hand was at the nape of her neck, weaving his fingers into her curls and holding their foreheads together for what could have been seconds or an eternity. He couldn't tell and didn't care. When he opened his eyes, he hungrily drank her in, detailing all the little perfect imperfections of her lovely face.

"Hardy?" she mumbled.

"Hm?" he hummed, his senses overwhelmed by her presence.

"Are you going to kiss me or stare at my pimples for the rest of time?"

Hardy's eyes popped open. "What?" he wheezed.

Ellie grinned and Hardy lost his mind. He snagged her shirt and drew her flush against his heaving chest. They moved in at the same time, awkwardly missing their respective aims. His lips brushed the corners of her mouth, and she made acquaintance with his stubble. He groaned and she chuckled.

"When was-"

"If you're going to ask me when was the last time I snogged som-"

Whatever he was going to say was sealed by her lips behind his. There was a hint of salt and a timid nip, and then he gasped for air.

Ellie fell away from his body, face flushed and eyes fixed on her knees. She glanced upward, peering out behind a curtain of curls. A shy smile crept across her mouth and then she looked away.

She slapped him playfully on the arm. "Knob."

"What did I do now?" he squeaked.

This woman was unknowable. He snagged her wrist and was about to make another move, when the ocean decided to join in on the fun. A wave doused them in frigid water, cooling off their heated bodies.

"Bloody hell. Now my undercrackers are soaked," he groused.

Ellie sputtered. "You didn't just say that?" Her clear laughter echoed from the steep wall of the cliff.

"What's wrong with-"

"If you say that word again, I'm going to pee my pants," Ellie threatened.

Hardy rolled his eyes at her and clambered to his feet. She took his proffered hand, and he pulled her up. He wasn't sure if she tipped against his body on purpose or not. Not that it mattered. He lowered his head to give her another kiss, when yet again he was interrupted.

By her hand sliding down his buttocks. Inside his trousers. He jumped.

"Ellie, what're you doin'?" His voice had not only shifted one but two octaves.

"Checking out your wet undercrackers," she informed him with another squeeze of his behind.

Hardy was stunned.

"Yup. Definitely soaked," she stated smugly. She snatched his hand and began to drag him along with her.

"Let's go back to your place before you catch your death out here," she ordered him.

Hardy had no recourse but to traipse behind her, wondering if he was still in the right film or if someone had stealthily changed out the reel. A broad smile stretched out his mouth. They'd better not change back to the old one; he preferred this story line.

Ellie had slowed down and fallen in step with him. Her firm grip had loosened and her fingers were laced into his. Shoulder against shoulder, they strolled by the spot where Ellie had refused to even shake his hands three years ago.

Ooooooo

 **A/N:** Beth lost… and I am going to shipping hell. Who wants to come along? When I wrote the first scene for this story (which was not the beginning) I would have never thought I'd end up at a beach on a foggy November day… I blame those four ladies mentioned at the top… especially Hazelmist who turned me into a shipper to begin with and with her incessant talk about the beach put that seed into my brain that grew into this… (I also blame that silly pop song "Sweater Weather" that ever since I heard it I kept thinking about Ellie and Hardy at the beach – curling toes into the sand and sticking hands into each other's sweaters – I am hopeless it turns out). So yea, as Hardy said – I'm a goner…

Quick side note – there's one thing that is part of my head canon for Hardy and Ellie – it deals with the common idea that Hardy must have followed Ellie around between S1 and S2 – if you're interested read "November Fog" and it might explain why Ellie asks Daisy about that birthday three years prior.


	7. Chapter 7 - Right Time, Right Place

**A/N:** Now this took forever! I apologize, but life has been a wee bit crazy for so many reasons (and for once also good ones). Many thanks to all the readers out there! Your support makes this very enjoyable.

My most heartfelt thanks to my betas – the adorkably wonderful THEDELIRIUMTENNANTS and lovely KTROSE. And also to the other friends who gave input (and flailed a bit) HAZELMIST, FRANZI86, and LUNASEEMOONY. You all rock!

* * *

 **Chapter 7 – Right Time, Right Place**

Ellie and Hardy reached his house after the sun had already set. The twilight hid the two figures from nosy eyes, a fact both were grateful for. He ushered her up the uneven stairs, his hands glued to her back as if he wanted to make up for all those times she'd shrugged off his touch.

Ellie had no idea where this was leading to, and she didn't waste one thought on it. Whatever would come her way would be accepted. Her tongue smoothed over her lips which had been roughened up by his stubble, but then had been so tenderly caressed by his mouth.

When they reached the terrace, she slowed down, hesitant as to where to turn next. The hand which had warmed up the groove above her waistline circled around her hip to come to rest right below her navel. He tightened his grasp and turned her gently. His fingers curled into her jumper, pulling her closer. He breathed a kiss on the crown of her head and played with her curls.

A smile flicked over her face. Who would have thought that he'd have such an affinity for her hair? She tiptoed and reached up to run her fingers through his fringe. She could join the game. Once she had mussed that unruly tuft of auburn hair, she feared she couldn't ever resist the urge to do so again.

Hardy's mouth trailed down her forehead and temple, and ended up nibbling her earlobe. She shivered.

"You all right?" he murmured into her ear and pushed her away half an inch to search her face.

She nodded. His head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he didn't comment. Ellie cursed her insecurities and three years of loneliness which had given her ample opportunity to solidify her conviction that she was better off with no men in her life.

That conviction hadn't prevented her from kissing her boss on his birthday on a foggy beach.

He fingered the lapels of his jacket which was draped around her shoulders. Ellie watched him stroke them up and down. It was driving her bonkers.

"Could you not do that," she snapped and clasped his hands under hers.

"And why shouldn't I?" he purred and pushed himself against her body.

A wave of ocean scent made her lose her breath and the last bit of sanity she'd been holding onto.

He freed his arms and wrapped them around her, obliterating whatever theoretical space had remained between them. He stroked her spine in the same infuriating way he'd stroked the jacket. His fingers danced up and down until they found their favorite spot in her curls. He lifted her chin, tipping her head back into his palm, supporting her comfortably. His face took the place of the world around her, and she drowned in his moonlit eyes. His motion toward her stalled for a heartbeat which stretched into an eternity, and Ellie's fervent desire to close that distance between their lips won.

This time there was nothing timid or awkward about the kiss. Gentle surveying quickly turned into hungry exploration of the other's mouth. Hands fisted into strands of hair, only letting go to cup every well-rounded part of their respective bodies. Stolen breaths were cut short by eager lips, stifling the need for air.

Hardy sagged against the wall of his cottage and pulled Ellie with him. She fell into his arms, melting into his embrace. Her body moved with the up and down of his heaving chest, and the heat emanating from his core seeped into her. They broke apart for a few heartbeats. His long fingers circled around her neck, perfectly aligning with her jawline and his thumb stroking her cheek. He pressed another ravenous kiss on her plump lips and dug his hand into her hair. He backed away, leaving her yearning for more while she lost herself in those melancholic eyes. His palm cupped the back of her head, entwining his fingers in her curls even deeper. The moonlight glittered in his moist irises, and he tugged her head down to nestle in the nook under his jawbone, resting his chin on her. His other arm wrapped around her, engulfing her with his body until everything else faded away.

"Ellie," he breathed.

For the first time since she'd told him not to call her by her given name in that sun flooded room at the Broadchurch nick where her life had changed forever, she felt she could forget. Unshed tears stung her eyes.

"Ellie," he whispered again.

The dam broke. He held her tightly while she soaked his jumper with a flood of emotions that she'd denied herself to acknowledge for too long.

"'S all right," he mumbled over and over again, carding his fingers through her hair and caressing her back and arms.

Her tears ebbed away slowly, and a contented calmness pulsed into her consciousness, driven by every one of Hardy's thudding heartbeats against her ear. His lips ghosted over her forehead and he held her at arm's length, his worried eyes meeting her red-rimmed shining ones.

"Better?"

"Yeah," she sighed, rubbing self-consciously at her nose.

His hands slid down her arms, meeting hers. He played with her fingers, and his thumb rubbed over her wrist.

"Was this…" – he struggled to find the words – "… out of line?"

Ellie fixed her eyes on that digit drawing circles on her skin. "No."

"Good." The syllable carried relief mixed with a promise of more.

"Do you want to come in or…," he trailed off.

Her heart rate picked up. Was that what she wanted? She wasn't sure. She hadn't felt like this in a long time, but she had no reserve in her to make another mistake when it came to opening up to something she might not be prepared for having in her life again. She looked up. His puppy eyes glittered with panic.

"Shit," he swore. "That's not what I meant, Ellie." His tongue tripped over the words which rapidly spilled out of his mouth. "That came out all wrong. It's cold, and you're cold, and maybe inside it would be less cold. I would never presume you'd wanted to… unless of course you do want to..."

A groan originating deep inside his chest broke off his stammering. He let go of her hands, and hid his face behind his palms. "Fuck," he pressed through gritted teeth.

Something tickled Ellie's sense of humor. She replayed his words in her mind.

' _Unless of course you do want to… fuck.'_

She sputtered a laugh, and Hardy's bright red face scrunched up into a confused scowl. Grinning, she looked at him, and clued him in.

"You do realize what you just said, right?"

His mouth gaped open, and his lips silently muttered the words. Suddenly his eyes widened, shining with horror. Ellie was grateful he had the pacemaker as she wasn't sure he'd survive the terror within.

"God, I really am useless at this," he groaned.

Ellie leaned against his body and pecked a kiss on his stubbly cheek. "No, you're not."

The corner of his mouth twitched in what Ellie knew to be a smile, and he wrapped his arms loosely around her.

"What are we gonna do?" he rumbled into her ear.

She didn't know. This was the last thing she'd expected when she'd come to his house today. There hadn't been anyone since Joe, not anyone who she'd considered letting come close. She'd kept herself busy with the boys and work, purposefully ignoring anything that would have made her think about being with another man. The wounds were barely scarred over. How could she ever trust anyone again?

"Ellie," he said and lifted her chin with his finger. Something gleamed in his eyes she had never noticed before when he had looked at her. "You're safe with me."

The tremble in her lip was back, and she struggled to hold back the tears. She slapped him hard on the arm and cried, "You wanker. How dare you! Stop being nice and…" A choked up sob garbled up the remainder of her rant.

She wanted him to let go and say something irksome to restore the familiar battle ground. She needed the comfort of old habits. He didn't grant her that solace though. Instead, his palms framed her face. He gently nuzzled his way to her mouth and placed the most tender kiss on her lips.

"No need to hasten anything," he said when they parted, their foreheads still touching and his hands warming her cheeks.

He trailed his fingers down her arms and intertwined them with hers. "You should go home. Your boys will be waiting," he said with a smile.

"Alec-"

"Let's stick with Hardy," he interjected with less vehemence than usual when it came to rejecting his name.

"You're kiddin'?"

His expression was serious. "I don't like it. Besides my mother, most people in my life who used it have hurt me. I'd rather not…" he trailed off, kneading her palm with his thumb.

It was a rare glimpse into his raw soul, and Ellie sensed it was all he could give at that moment.

"Come," he said and tugged her toward the stairs. "I'll walk you to your car."

There was no need to do so, but the idea sent butterflies to Ellie's stomach. He stuck his hand under his jacket which was wrapped around her body. Heat radiated from the small of her back through her while he guided her down the treacherous steps to where she had parked.

He made a point of fetching her coat and helping her into it to replace his garment. He couldn't keep his hands off of her, straightening and stroking the dark blue cloth over and over again.

"I should leave," she stated half-heartedly.

"Aye," he agreed, sounding even less convinced.

Their eyes met, mirroring each other's conflicting emotions and desires.

"Shouldn't I?"

"I don't want this to be a mistake tomorrow morning, Ellie." He expelled all air out of his lungs. "I've made so many of them; I can't bear the thought of another one," he added, his voice burdened with the sorrow of his past.

His words resonated with her own pain and anxiety, and she knew he was right. A possible future sparkled ahead, but they'd have to walk the bumpy path carefully, matching each other's pace. Tonight, Hardy was the one who was attuned to what they needed, and she gladly followed his lead.

He held open the door to her car. Before she plopped down onto the seat, he stalled her and brushed his lips over her forehead one last time.

"This was nice, Ellie," he mumbled into her ear on his way down to her neck where he planted a quick kiss with a tiny nip. She gasped involuntarily, catching his pleased grin out of the corner of her eye.

She graced him with a gorgeous smile. "Happy birthday, Hardy," she said, got inside the car, and closed the door before he could do anything else they might have both regretted.

She watched him in the rear mirror until she couldn't see his dark and tall figure any longer. He was still as a rock. Her rock. She sniggered at the soppy romantic image this thought carried, but it sunk into her heart to stay.

She pulled up her car, and a snorting chortle escaped her throat when her giddy mind reminded her of something else. Hardy's tall figure hadn't been the only thing that had been a rock. Despite everything – the wet pants, the cold wind, the embarrassment – Hardy's body had given away that his little muttered "Fuck" was more than Freudian in nature. It had felt good in her rummaging hand, just as good as his hand on her breast. Ellie inhaled deeply, held her breath, and then let it out while counting to twenty. When she greeted her sister, no one would have ever known that she'd made out with her boss not even an hour ago.

* * *

Hardy stood stock still in the cold wind, watching until the last silvery glitter of her car had vanished. He rose his gaze to the pale half circle of the moon. A thin veil of clouds covered it, swiftly whisking along, driven by the breeze blowing up from the ocean. It tousled his hair which sported the occasional grey strand.

Another year had passed.

He dropped his gaze and smiled. The admission didn't come easy, but it hadn't been the worst. And the beginning of his next tour around the sun had been exceedingly promising. Frighteningly promising.

He made his way back up to his cottage. His tongue tasted the salt in the air mixed with the faint memory of honey on Ellie's lips. Her scent was all around him, wafting up from his jacket. It was as close as he'd get to her tonight, but it was more than he could have hoped for.

Fishing his keys out of his wet trouser pockets, he spotted a medium sized gift box on the deckchair. He scooped it up and brought it inside. He placed it in the middle of his dining table, right under the cone of light from the warm overhead lamp. Turtle stickers formed an asymmetrical pattern on the poppy colored paper and scribbles decorated every side. A big lopsided heart was drawn on the top, right next to a big blue bow.

He stared at it, turning it bit by bit with his finger. She'd brought him a present and Fred had left his permanent mark on it. He was too touched to dare opening it. Too tense to sit, he bent down and picked up the card that had been stuck under the ribbon. It had the same shade of red as the wrapping paper.

He placed it in front of him, taking a few heartbeats to gather the courage to take a peek. His long fingers slid under the flap of the envelope and pried it open carefully. Then he pulled out the card. It had been years since someone had made the effort to get him a card for his birthday.

He'd seen her handwriting many times, but it was different under these circumstances. He began to read, heart thudding in his neck. The greeting brought a smile to his face.

 _"Dear_ _Hardy_ _Alec_ _Sir!_

 _(I don't even know what to call you these days)_

 _Not too long ago, we talked about how quickly our children are growing into adults and how it seems we miss more and more of their lives. You told me about the times when you and Daisy used to enjoy watching those horrible movies together. (Seriously, Hardy - the 'Bruces'?)"_

Hardy paused, a puzzled frown spreading on his forehead. How did Ellie know about Daisy and his nickname for the two 'Bruces', Lee and Willis? His curiosity sparked, he read on.

 _"You confided you'd give anything to go back to those carefree days. It might surprise you to hear that a little flower told me she shared those feelings."_

Hardy stared at the note in disbelief. Daisy had spoken to Ellie about their past? When had that happened? Curiosity was replaced with a warm feeling in his stomach.

 _"You of all people know best how precious time is and how important it is to spend it as much as possible with your family. I hope this gift will help you find something you thought you'd lost._

 _Happy Birthday Hardy!_

 _Ellie"_

There was another scribble next to Ellie's name, presumably from Fred.

Hardy blinked at the writing, reading it a few more times, before his attention turned to the gift in front of him. He wiped down his eyes and cheeks, hiding those scant tears from no one but himself. He traced Fred's drawings with his fingertips.

Memories of birthdays from long ago surfaced, and he struggled with keeping the lid on the Pandora's box of emotions. The lid popped open, and a deep rooted grief over the loss of his family washed over him like a wave from the ocean at his door steps. The years spent in solitude crushed his heart, and he pressed his hand over his mouth to hold back a sob.

He shouldn't be crying. This was something good. And still, he couldn't help but feel that burning emptiness inside that accompanied recollecting all the wonderful days he had with Daisy and Tess.

He had no desire to return to his marriage, but what he had lost often appeared irreplaceable. Lately, he struggled with the realization that maybe what he had assumed he had lost had been an illusion all along. It didn't make it better though. He was certain that he and Tess had been in love an eternity ago; that had been real. And then things had changed. When and how, he had no idea, and it didn't matter in the end. What consoled him was Daisy. His wonderful child had come from this once happy union, and she would always be a bittersweet reminder of what he once had, but also of what had weathered the storm. She was his beacon in the dark, shining her light for him to come home. She had overcome all her misgivings and hurt his actions had caused, and she had returned to him. Her courage was strong enough for both of them, and it continued to be so.

It must have been Daisy who had told Ellie about his birthday. His daughter had given him the most wonderful gift ever – hope; a glimpse of something he was convinced he had lost forever. He took in a deep breath and closed the lid on those feelings he knew would never fully disappear, but began to be less and less painful. No more broken heart. Finally, it seemed he was truly getting there.

His fingers tugged gently on the bow. It unraveled, and Hardy opened the first present he'd received in half a decade. The hunch about what it could be didn't lessen the emotional turmoil that tore down whatever composure he had mustered after reading the card.

He stared at the assortment of films. There was the first Bruce Lee film he had ever watched as a boy together with a special collector's edition of Bruce Lee's work; there was Daisy's secret favorite Arnold Schwarzenegger film which she denied to this day she loved; there were his own favorites of the other Bruce's – Willis – films; there was ' _The Avengers'_ , the movie Daisy and he had never been able to see together because his life had fallen apart; there was _'Thor'_ and to his childish excitement a second Thor movie he hadn't even known existed; there was _'The Princess Bride'_ together with _'Red Heat'_ which he had brought to make Daisy happy in the hospital. Each one of them had a little note stuck to it, reminding him why that particular film had become part of the gift.

Hardy's gaze drifted from one to the other, and he sank onto a chair. His knees had grown wobbly, overwhelmed by what Daisy and Ellie had done for him. To some this was a mere collection of films. To him it was so much more. Every single one of them carried a deeper meaning, a memory he had shoved away somewhere deep inside because it had been too painful to allow himself to look at it. He hadn't dared to rekindle the tradition he and Daisy had. It had been a thing of the past which was obscured by the events of the recent years and by his little girl growing into the stunning young woman she was now.

He pulled the card closer and read it again. The letters swam in front of his eyes, and his teardrops bled the writing. His mind struggled with the idea that Daisy wanted to go back to those carefree days, that she wanted to hold on to something they had shared. Tess had never taken part in their folly, but Ellie was different. The two most important women in his life had conspired to make sure he'd be happy on his birthday and beyond.

He sucked in a shaking breath, tears freely rolling down his stubbly cheeks. His trembling fingers brushed over the sticky notes on the plastic cases. Then he buried his face in his palms, shoulders heaving with his sobs of relief.

Ultimately, he wasn't alone.

* * *

The moon was hanging over the ocean, bathing everything in a silvery light. Hardy sat in the deckchair Ellie had given him, wrapped tightly in his coat. The brisk night air helped to settle the upheaval in his mind. His exhaustion was tangible, but sleep eluded him.

He hadn't talked to Daisy yet. She'd told him she'd be busy until late that evening. His eyelids drooped shut. He'd dozed off when his phone buzzer woke him.

"Yup?" he yawned.

"Happy Birthday, Dad!"

"Thank you, Darlin'," he cooed, smiling and sitting up.

"So, how was your day?" Anxious curiosity turned her back into the little girl that used to bounce up and down in front of him while he was unwrapping the present she'd given him.

"Fine."

That was the understatement of the year. His heart felt lighter and at the same time fuller than it had in years. Hardy smirked, and in a rare moment of foolishness he decided to pay back and have a go at Daisy for once.

"Did you tell Ellie Miller it was my birthday today?" he asked sternly.

"Erm… it's a possibility," she answered reluctantly.

"I see. And how did you have her number?" He shouldn't enjoy this as much, but he had the once in a lifetime opportunity to have the upper hand.

"Uhm… I… you…," she stammered, flustered by her embarrassment.

They both knew she'd snooped around on his phone. He didn't need the confession.

"Just that you know, I changed my lock code."

"Dad! I didn't do anything bad."

"No. You didn't," he allowed with a quiet chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean? You're acting all funny."

It wasn't hard to imagine her squirming, lying prone on her bed. He had never loved her more.

"Ellie came to visit," he informed her, delivering her from her misery.

"Did she? Were you home? Or were you out brooding on the cliffs?" Her sarcasm barely masked her concern.

A smile flickered over his face. "Yup. She dragged me off the beach."

The pregnant pause following his revelation didn't escape Hardy's attention.

"Daisy, you said you'd be okay with-"

A sniffle cut him off, provoking a frown on his forehead.

"Darlin', I don't have to-" he began, leaning forward and resting his elbow on his knee. His free hand dug through his hair.

A loud snorty sound crackled through the line. "I am so happy for you," she sobbed.

Hardy was stunned. He couldn't remember a moment when Daisy would get soppy over anything.

"You deserve this. You really do. I was hoping you two would finally take the next step. But knowing how much of an idiot you can be, I thought Ellie could use a nudge. I told her about all the movies and everything. She was so lovely. I told her about the 'Bruces' and she thought it was hilarious. She really wanted to help. She said she'd get her kid – what's his name again? Fred? – to draw on the papers and that she'd make you watch her favorite movies as well. And guess what? Thor is her favorite. Can you believe it I mean…," and she continued with her delighted babbling. The words fell out of her mouth, chasing each other and reminding him of himself when he had stumbled into one of his rambling rants.

"Daisy," he interrupted her quietly, rubbing his stinging eyes. "Thank you," he whispered into the speaker, unable to give his voice more weight for the fear that something could burst his happy bubble any moment.

Daisy fell silent. Another sniffle reached his ear. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes.

"Ellie said in her card you miss how it used to be. Is that true?" He had to muster all his courage to ask.

"Aye."

It had been years since he heard her say it. As a six-year-old she'd proclaimed this was for special occasions only, and she'd kept herself to her promise. Tearing up, he listened to that one syllable that broke and healed his heart at the same time.

"Oh, darlin'," he managed before his voice cracked.

Wind tugged at his lapels, invading the warmth of his coat's cocoon. He passed a freezing hand over his moist stubble and savored the whiff of cold salty air. He couldn't be sure but he assumed she was still crying at the other end.

"You know what was my best gift today?" The corner of his mouth crept up and a tiny burst of crinkles sprouted from his eyes.

"No," she sniffed.

"You got soppy on me," he stated triumphantly.

It was with great pleasure that he listened to the tirade of insults she unleashed upon him. Leaning back again, his eyes drifted to the dark sky where stars glittered through the wisps of clouds. Absently, his mind began counting. For once it wasn't ceiling tiles in a hospital bed.

"Dad, are you falling asleep?"

Her voice pulled him away from the warm heaviness his body had given in to. He denied it with a yawn, and she chuckled.

"Go to bed. Old people don't stay up this late."

"Oi, 'm not that old," he protested, recalling his roaming hands nearly undressing Ellie Miller at his doorstep, driven by a desire that made him feel anything but old.

"Did you finally snog her?"

"Excuse me?" he squeaked, utterly taken by surprise by her bold inquiry.

"Don't play daft. You heard me," she laughed.

His face was burning, a red beacon under the silvery moon light. Embarrassment drove him out of his chair and to a slow pace across the terrace, right to the spot where he'd exactly done what his daughter had asked about. He halted, staring at the ground. A glitter caught his eye. He stooped down and scooped up the dainty button from Ellie's blouse. His fingers curled around it, nestling it safely in his hand. A flutter in his stomach came and went like the wind that had played with Ellie's locks making her look so beautiful. Suddenly, the answer to his daughter's question was easy.

"Aye," he confirmed, rising to his full height.

She was quiet on the other end, and he gave her the time to process the news.

"Good," was all she said after seconds had stretched into minutes.

"Daisy-"

"No. Don't. This is a good thing, Dad. I'm okay with it. Promise me one thing though," she demanded.

"Anything," he vowed sincerely.

"No shit plans. No trying to protect someone from being hurt by not telling them the truth."

He scratched his eyebrow, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Seriously?" She huffed. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."

It was hard to deny it, looking back at the last years of his life. He nudged the deckchair with his toe, a pout puckering up his lips. "Fine. No shit plans then."

She demonstratively sighed in relief.

"Oi, you didn't have to be as obvious about it," he growled.

"Yes, I did. And you know it. Tell me, has Ellie Miller ever accused you of having a shit plan?"

The memory of fiery brown eyes piercing through him flickered through his mind.

"Yup," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, that woman has a brain. You should listen to her."

He hummed in agreement. He probably should. Ellie most certainly would agree.

She yawned, and deep rooted paternal instincts took over Hardy's tired mind.

"You had a long day, darlin'. Time to go to sleep."

"Are you sending me to bed like a child?" she asked in mock indignation.

"Quite right."

She yawned again, growling like a little pup. "Stop being such a dad."

He smiled. "I never will," he said tenderly.

Silence echoed through the line, followed by a tiny sniffle. "You're not gonna make me cry twice in one conversation. I'm going to hang up. I love you, Dad. And happy birthday again."

"Thanks, darlin'. I love you too. Always."

She cut the call and left Hardy standing in the cold dark night, armed with a contentment he hadn't felt in an eternity. He emptied out all the air in his lungs, and opened his door. For the first time in years, he looked forward to the new year ahead.

* * *

The black in his bedroom was dimly lit by the fluorescent stars on the ceiling. The glow of his mobile bathed his face in an eerie light while he typed a message. His fingers moved slowly over the screen, hesitant what words to form. The delete button soon became his best friend, but eventually he settled on a note that wouldn't send him into cardiac arrest.

 **Ellie, thank you for proving me wrong. You're right. We are not all alone.**

He rolled over on his side and propped the phone against the nightstand. The lines on the display were fuzzy as he'd taken off his glasses. He wasn't expecting an answer in the middle of the night, but he couldn't help himself. His eyes were glued to the flicker until it faded away, and his mind followed shortly.

A buzz woke him to a startle, tripping off his heartbeat. A sharp breath and a zap from his pacemaker later, he squinted at the words.

 **I will mark my calendar that you said I'm right.**

Another text came through and he shoved his glasses on his nose. Smiling, he read on.

 **You said to me in another lifetime that one can never know what's going on in someone else's heart. We both didn't in our past. Maybe this time around it can be different.**

Hardy squeezed his eyes shut and fell back onto his pillow. The fluttering in his chest had migrated to his stomach, and he suddenly felt thirty years younger. His mind struggled to process Ellie's words. He cracked his lids open, finger hovering over the letters. Another message popped up.

 **And now go back to sleep before you can say something that would want me to throw a cup of piss at you. Good night, Hardy.**

"Oh, Ellie," he whispered, grinning daftly.

Sleep hadn't come this easy in years, and before he even remembered to take off his glasses, he'd drifted off.

* * *

Grey light filtered through the curtains, swallowing all color when he forced his eyes open. The buzzing sound next to his ear wasn't going away, and he finally gave in. His glasses had left a sore indentation on his cheek, now bent out of shape from a night of sleeping on them.

"Hardy," he growled into the speaker, his voice rough from drowsiness.

"Sir, I'm sorry to wake you, but-" DS Patil greeted him way too awake for this early in the morning.

"Why're ya ringing me, Patil?" he cut her off, annoyed with life. "DI Miller is on duty."

Patil groaned barely audibly. "I don't think I should be calling her with this."

The hesitation echoing through her statement catapulted Hardy awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. Trepidation clenched up his stomach and drove away all butterflies he'd had earlier.

"Why?" he hissed.

"We found something you need to see. In the cliff top hut," Patil announced shakily.

Hardy's throat closed off. He vaguely recalled reading a memo about the cliff top hut being demolished. His voice betrayed him, and it took him two attempts to let Patil know he'd be there as quickly as he could. On his way out the door, he called her back to emphasize not to get in touch with anyone else until he got there. And especially not DI Miller.

Not Ellie. Not yet. Not until he knew what he was dealing with.

His patience too thin to wait for a car to pick him up, he rushed through a grey Broadchurch and up the cliff. He sprinted along the path that running down three years ago had nearly killed him. Panting, he reached the door and braced himself on the wooden frame.

The floor was all stripped, and a couple members of his SOCO team were bustling about. DS Patil stood in the middle of the chaos, holding on tightly to a small plastic bag. Their eyes met as he stumbled forward. She steadied him, handing over her possession. Hardy's shaking hand struggled to fish out his glasses. Finally, he saw what was in the bag. His knees gave way, and he sank into the dirt and dust, clutching it to his heaving chest and pressing it against his thudding heart.

"Sir, are you all right?" Patil asked, placing a hand on his shoulders.

He breathed in and out a few times before he mumbled, "'M fine," and clambered to his feet. He carefully pocketed the bag and turned to Patil.

"No word to anyone about this. Is that clear? I will take it to forensics and deal with it personally," he ordered sternly, his eyes boring through his DS.

She nodded, and he was relieved to see his emotions mirrored in her face. She'd be quiet, and he trusted her to keep the others silent too.

He stepped out of the hut into the first rays of the bright morning sun.

' _The right place at the right time.'_

He'd been given a second chance to put things right. This time, he wouldn't fail.


	8. Chapter 8 - New and Compelling

**A/N:** Dear everyone, with S3 nearly upon us I thought I should make an effort to continue this story. It's not done yet, I haven't even gotten to what I really wanted to write about. Regardless of what will happen next Monday, I'll continue to play around with this AU story. No beta this time – so bear with odd grammar of the non-native speaker.

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – New and Compelling**

Hardy leaned back in the passenger seat of the police car, his half-closed eyes lazily flicking from house to house. His hand rested over his coat pocket. The plastic bag weighed heavy in there. He forced himself not to finger it over and over again.

The short drive to the Broadchurch nick turned into a trip back down memory lane. Images tumbled through his fired-up mind - Tess calling him to let him know about the pendant; his ride from his home to his office where his life would change forever; the moment everything had fallen into place and Joe Miller's guilt became evident; his walk across the field and through the Miller house; having to tell Ellie about her husband; Ellie unleashing her fury and desolation upon Joe; the plea and the verdict for both his nemeses, Lee and Joe.

The car had barely stopped when he threw the door open and scrambled out of the cramped seat. His coat billowing behind him, he ran up the stairs. His tall figure cast a long shadow in the early morning light, rippling over the steps. Bob Daniels panted behind him, struggling to keep up with his boss.

Hardy blew into the station like a winter storm. Oblivious of the stares and whispers, he dashed to the elevators, only to be held back in his haste by the metal doors, pacing back and forth and cursing under his breath. Impatience won, and he dashed down the stairway, taking two steps at a time. The desk sergeant gave him the evil eye when he snatched away the evidence log book and scribbled down all the numbers hastily. The heavy book thudded shut, and Hardy let out a long sigh.

The evidence had reached where it belonged.

He had gathered an audience. "Dirty" Brian whose office was down the hallway from the evidence store room had snuck up and peeked over his shoulder.

"Sir?" was all he said, fixing his inquisitive eyes on Hardy's shaking figure.

Hardy's hand clamped down on the shorter man's shoulder, pushing him along the aisle toward the door which promised privacy.

"Not here," Hardy growled. Holding on tightly to his chief of forensics, he turned to murder the desk sergeant with a glare.

"Not a word to anyone. Do you hear me?" he ordered more sternly than he'd ever ordered anything in his life. The sergeant paled and nodded.

Hardy ushered Brian along, slamming the door shut behind them. He fell against it, sucking in some breaths. Calming down would have been a prudent move, but Hardy lacked the willpower to do so.

Brian squinted at him, curiosity and worry playing over his face.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"'M fine," Hardy wheezed. He closed his eyes and counted the seconds until the ICD would jolt his racing heart out of an unsustainable pace. When it hit him, he slid down to the ground, groaning but grateful for the reprieve and the air filling his lungs again.

He lifted his gaze to find Brian hovering over him, prying the plastic bag from his cramped fingers. Hardy had to make a conscious effort to uncurl one by one and let go of the weight he'd been carrying for an eternity.

Brian fished out a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. An excited whistle escaped him.

"Where did you find this?"

"Cliff top hut," Hardy grunted while clambering to his feet.

Brian's eyes widened.

"Does Ellie know?" he asked quietly.

Hardy shook his head. "She can't. Not until we determine what this could mean."

"There is blood," Brian commented, scrutinizing the content through the clear plastic.

"Y'ah," Hardy rasped.

Their gaze met.

"If this is what we think it is…," Brian trailed off.

"Y'ah," Hardy confirmed the unthinkable.

"The blood analysis might take me a few days. It's old."

Hardy nodded, burying his hands in his trouser pockets.

"What about prints?" Hardy's Scottish brogue barely hid away the quiver in his voice.

Brian took in a sharp breath and bit down on his lip.

"Two, maybe three weeks, if we're so lucky."

 _Fuck._ Hardy knew of course what task his forensics chief faced, but it was nothing compared to keeping a secret from Ellie for this long. Especially not after they had snogged on his terrace not even twenty-four hours ago. A faint heat crept up his cheeks, soon to turn his face fully flushed once Hardy became aware of his body's treacherous give-away.

"Don't get angry, sir," Brian pleaded.

Hardy shot him a puzzled look until he realized how his reaction must look to his subordinate. It was just as well. Better for them to think he was his usual grumpy self than for them to know about what their two senior officers had been up to.

"It's not that," Hardy denied meekly. "I'm worried about Ellie."

As soon as he had said it, he realized his fatal mistake. He'd used her first name. Mortified at the slip up, Hardy dragged his hands down his face, wishing desperately to hide.

Brian's response wasn't what Hardy had expected. He laughed.

"Seriously?" Hardy groaned, exasperated with life.

"I'll buy you a drink, sir. With the money I won from the pot." Brian patted Hardy on the shoulder, a smug grin brightening up his face.

Hardy's mouth gaped open. He didn't want to contemplate what Brian's remark implied, but his detective brain was in high gear and delivered an answer before he could stop it.

"Are you telling me you lot placed a wager on me calling Miller Ellie?"

Brian's grin grew wider. "No, sir. Not quite. But I'd say I still win."

"Christ," Hardy moaned, sinking down on a chair. "Has it been that obvious?" he mumbled.

Brian had the nerve to snigger, and Hardy's urge to either die on the spot or strangle his subordinate grew by the second.

"It's a small town, sir. Did you really think taking her out to dinner would go unnoticed?"

Resting his elbows on his thighs, Hardy stared ahead. All the times he'd assured Ellie it would be fine came back to haunt him now. A morbid curiosity and a propensity to self-torture made him go on.

"Whose money did you win?" he inquired with an air of defeat.

Brian laughed. "Everyone's."

"Right."

 _Bloody town._ He was part of this community now, though. Had chosen to be out his own accord. Accepting the inevitable, he straightened his long figure.

"As long as the vicar stays out of it," he said, making a feeble attempt at a joke.

"Did you snog her yet?"

"Sorry?" Hardy squeaked, not trusting his ears.

Brian beamed. "Paul and Beth have a bet going the two of you will snog before Christmas."

Hardy blinked, his brain struggling to process the information. Brian stepped up, gently turned him around, and nudged him toward the exit.

"I'll get working on it right away," he told a speechless Hardy, shoved him out into the hallway, and closed the door.

Hardy stood there, overwhelmed by the last twenty-four hours of his life. A faint scent of honey battled the stale air in the basement hallway. Hardy's lips curled up in a daft smile. For once he was content with the vicar having the upper hand.

* * *

Ellie was late. On purpose. If she never had to set foot into the Broadchurch nick again, she'd be glad. She had fussed over Fred and Tom the whole morning until Tom told her to back off. A pang of guilt washed through her when she pretended she needed to discuss an important matter with Fred's nursery school teacher only to delay the inevitable.

She'd have to face Hardy again.

She stole into CID without being noticed by most of her colleagues. The only one who stared at her as if she'd seen a ghost was Nish. The younger woman paled and spun around. Ellie frowned. Immediate suspicion about what the hell Hardy was up to budded in her already frazzled mind.

The door to his office was closed. Ellie circled the room a few times, aimlessly checking in with her team until she finally settled down at her desk. Hardy remained hidden behind barred doors and blinds.

Ellie had lived in CID for too long not to be attuned to its every mood. The place felt off. A handful of people seemed on edge whereas others went normally about their day. Nish avoided her like the plague. She'd called Brian to arrange for a briefing on forensics they had been working on, but he blew her off. The chatter box Bob Daniels was mute as a fish. And all the while there was no sign of Hardy, not even around the time they usually went for tea.

It drove her bonkers. A rollercoaster of emotions raced through her; excitement was chased by embarrassment, followed by fiery anger at his standoffish behavior. Why did he have to be such a wanker? She snatched up her phone and sent him a text.

 **Are you going to be a fuckwit about this?**

She counted the minutes until he replied.

 **About what?**

Ellie groaned and tossed her phone on the table. What was wrong with him? A gap appeared between his blinds and she made a point to roll her eyes in his direction. The silver metal sheaths popped back, hiding Hardy once again.

 **I'm sorry. I was busy. New case.**

She stared at the words, not quite sure how to answer. If she hadn't snogged him in the dark like a randy teenager not even a day ago, this would have been perfectly normal Hardy behavior. Sighing, she got up. It appeared she needed to be the adult for both of them.

She dashed out into the winter storm to get his favorite tea from the shop at the corner. Dripping curls and frozen to the bone, she knocked at his door. A few seconds later, a growl signaled her to enter.

When she walked in, he hastily switched off his computer screen and flipped over his phone. He plucked his spectacles from his nose and leaned back in his chair. Ellie's eyes caught on the temples of the thin frame which he had delicately wedged between his long fingers. He bounced them up and down unconsciously. It was tantalizing to say the least.

"Brought you tea," she said with a shy smile and placed the paper cup on his empty desk.

He hummed an acknowledgement, still fidgeting with his glasses.

Ellie took in the lack of the usual chaotic heaps of papers, file folders, and notes. "Congratulations. You must have solved that one in a record speed," she remarked.

His head snapped up. "What?" he wheezed, obviously not paying attention to anything she was saying.

"The new case," she prompted.

"What case?" he asked distractedly.

Ellie frowned. Something wasn't right. He'd ignored her many times when he'd gotten dragged into something outside of Broadchurch CID in these past months, but this was different. _He_ was different.

' _I don't want this to be a mistake tomorrow.'_

Her stomach sank. He regretted it. That must have been the reason he'd been dodging her all day.

"You said you're busy. With a new case," she probed insecurely.

Her questioning gaze met his blank stare. Seconds passed until the penny dropped. He sniffed and passed his hand over his scruff.

"'M sorry, Ellie. Yup. New case. Not done yet though," he muttered.

Ellie couldn't handle it any longer. Attack was the best defense. "Hardy, about last ni-"

She never got to finish her sentence. His phone buzzed and he pounced on it like a hungry lion. His eyes flicked over the message and a twitch played over his lips. Without a word, he jumped up, grabbed his coat, and was out the door.

Ellie stood in the middle of his office, staring at the untouched tea. She had expected many things to happen the day after she'd snogged her boss, but certainly not to be completely ignored.

A hand on her lower back startled her out of her glum thoughts. She looked up to be greeted by eye crinkles and a smile.

He leaned over and swooped up the paper cup. His gaze darted around to check for nosy CID staff. Then he pecked a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Thanks, Miller," he beamed and off he was.

Ellie was left behind, dumbfounded and thrown back on the rollercoaster.

"Knob," she muttered and closed the door behind her.

Nish and Bob were watching her, wide-eyed and flustered.

 _Bloody hell_. If they'd seen Hardy's display of public affection, the station would implode with rumors by the morning. She had to act now before it could get out of hand. They attempted to escape, but she cornered them.

"If you say a word to anyone, you're dead meat," she hissed at them.

Bob and Nish paled.

"No. Ma'am. DCI Hardy already told us. We would never…" Bob faltered, silenced by Ellie's death glare.

"Quite right," she growled and stormed off.

It didn't occur to her until she was on her way home that Bob's words didn't make sense. There hadn't been any opportunity for Hardy to curb his staff from spreading gossip about his love life. She chuckled at the association of Hardy and a love life. It was too absurd. As absurd as him making out with her on his terrace.

She fished out her mobile and tapped it pensively on her palm. Casting all doubt aside, she sent him an invitation to dinner. It didn't take long and her phone buzzed.

"Ellie, I can't," he stated, not bothering with social niceties.

"Oh. All right. Tomorrow then?" She shouldn't have been this disappointed.

"Erm… I have to go out of town for a few days," he shared apologetically.

A sinking feeling drooped her shoulders. "Rain check then?"

"Yeah. Rain check," he agreed with a sigh.

Silence crackled through the line.

"Where're you going?" she wanted to know when it became unbearable.

"Up north."

His shortness was a certain indicator he wouldn't reveal more. Ellie's spunk vanished into thin air.

"I'll text you?" he asked.

"Fine." She kicked a pebble listlessly.

"Ellie, I can't talk about it." There was a plea in his voice.

"Fine," she repeated with a sharper tone this time.

"Ellie, please, don't be like that."

"Stop Ellie-ing me," she ordered.

He huffed. "Seriously? That's a thing now?"

His exasperation drove away her anger and made her grin. There was no denying it. She did enjoy riling him up.

"You only get to call me Ellie if you take me out to dinner on the weekend."

He groaned. "I'll be in Sandbrook. Daisy has rehearsal for the Christmas school play."

Ellie's fuse blew. "Bloody hell, Hardy. If you don't want to have dinner with me, why don't you just say it. This is bloody stupid. I-"

"I want nothing more than sit with you and watch you eat food that'll kill you some day," he interjected softly before she could gather steam. "But I can't. Not this week. I need to take care of something. Alone. Please, Ell…" – he caught himself – "… Miller, trust me with this," he implored her.

The walls around her heart were crumbling. "'M not going to eat salad," she muttered.

Hardy snorted. "Not expecting you to."

They shared a timid chuckle.

"I'll be back next week and you can pick a place. Anywhere," he suggested.

"Anywhere?" she questioned. They'd been carefully picking restaurants as not to stir up any ideas in nosy onlookers.

He sighed. "Aye. Anywhere. Dirty Brian already won his bet."

"What does Brian have to do with this?" She was confused.

"Oh, I dunno. Ask him yourself," he evaded the answer.

She let it go, filing the information away to quiz Brian later.

"Ellie?"

"Don't call me Ellie," she retorted out of habit. She didn't even mean it this time.

"Ah, never mind," he breathed. "I should go. Got a ride to catch. I'll text you." He hung up before she could say good-bye.

Ellie pulled up in her driveway and turned off the engine. A ping announcing a text startled her.

 **It wasn't a mistake. Wanted to make sure you know.**

Her bottom lip trembled and she swallowed hard. The pitter-patter of the rain on her car comforted her. She sat in the dark until she was sure her face wouldn't mirror any of the emotional turmoil she was harboring.

Another message came through.

 **I said anywhere. Not going to that chip shack on the pier though.**

Ellie grinned. Hardy hated the place. Too many tourists and too many seagulls.

 **What? Why not? I wanted to go there. Anchors is my favorite.**

It didn't take long for his answer.

 **It is? Fine then. Anchors, next week.**

Ellie blinked at the letters. It was hard to believe Hardy had given in so easily. The screen lit up again.

 **I'll send you my doctor's bill. Might as well make an appointment now before the chip shack does me in.**

Grinning, she put the phone away and got out of the car. Wind ripped on her curls. She looked up in the sky, droplets collecting on her skin. The storm had come. But this time she didn't have to face it alone.

* * *

Hardy had lied to Ellie. There was no Christmas play. He wasn't even going up north. Not yet. His journey took him to London to meet up with Jocelyn Knight.

 _New and conclusive evidence._ Four magic words. He'd brought photographs of what they'd stumbled upon in the cliff top hut. They didn't do it quite justice but would have to suffice. Jocelyn had promised to bring a forensics expert of her own to assess the potential of their find.

The train ride seemed endless, hills with brownish winter grass rolling by behind a foggy curtain of cold air. He refrained from repeatedly scrutinizing the images. Instead, he settled on compulsively checking his phone and email in case Brian would have worked a miracle and finished the blood analysis already. Hardy knew Brian had stayed up all night to expedite things as much as he could.

Jocelyn was going to meet him in her new office. She had pointed out Sharon Bishop wouldn't be there which was a relief to Hardy. He wasn't sure he could remain calm in her presence. Hardy entered the posh building on Fleet Street with mixed feelings. A deep distrust of the justice system had grown in him over the years, warring with his own fundamental believes about right or wrong. He needed advice though.

"DI Hardy! You clean up well, I must say," Jocelyn greeted him with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes. "It's DCI now," he corrected her without much zeal.

"Congratulations. Did you take Ellie Miller's job again?"

Hardy groaned. "Seriously?"

Jocelyn chuckled and turned to lead him to her office. She stayed close to the wall, her hand trailing along the smooth surface.

The winter sun doused her perfectly placed desk in cool light. She gestured for him to take a seat next to a middle-aged man who was waiting for them.

"This is DCI Hardy," she introduced him to the man. "DCI Hardy, this is Dr. Butler. He is one of the leading forensic scientists at the Met."

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Butler." Hardy stuck his hand out which the other man shook enthusiastically.

"George will do. It is my pleasure to help. How can I be of assistance?" George's face was unnervingly open and curious.

Hardy shifted on his chair. "Erm… one of my old cases… we might have found new evidence which could lead to re-opening prosecution."

"The Danny Latimer homicide?"

Hardy nodded, chewing the inside of his cheek. Heat was building up under his coat. He tugged nervously on his tie.

"Jocelyn has given me a briefing of the background," Butler continued. "What have you got?"

Hardy fished out the photographs he'd tucked away in the jacket pocket close to his heart. He carefully placed them on the table between them.

"This," he said and fanned them out.

Butler pulled them closer and made clicking noise with his tongue. "Is that blood?"

"Aye," Hardy rasped.

"Did you complete DNA testing on it yet?" Excitement glittered in Butler's eyes.

"No. My staff are working on it."

"Prints?" Their eyes met.

"We don't know. It's a possibility."

"I can help you with that if you need," Butler offered while putting the images down. "Have your forensics people call me." He whipped out a business card and tossed it on the pile of photographs.

"Could anyone tell me what the hell we are talking about," Jocelyn demanded impatiently.

"Here." Hardy moved the pictures closer to her. "We found it at the murder scene. They were tearing down the cliff top hut," he explained.

Jocelyn didn't look at the prints. "I will need you to be more descriptive than that, DCI Hardy. My vision is failing. It won't allow me to see the pictures."

Hardy frowned but bit back the question about the how and when. A fleeting dash of annoyance passed through him when he wondered if she'd really been up to the task to prosecute Joe Miller. But then, who was he to judge keeping a health issue a secret?

He picked up one of the pictures and trailed his finger along image of the evidence which might change people's lives forever. "It's a piece of a rubber glove," he began slowly. Jocelyn's features tensed. "We found it in a crack under the floor boards. There is blood on it. My suspicion is Joe Miller used it to clean up the hut."

"You're kidding?" Disbelief echoed through Jocelyn's words.

"No. I'm not."

Jocelyn inhaled sharply. "Good lord. Does Ellie Miller know?"

"Nobody knows besides a few of my team members. I made sure they will stay quiet."

"I'm sure you did," she muttered. She clasped her hands and leaned forward. "Why did you come to me with this?"

"I need to know what our options are and how best to proceed. There can't be any errors. Not this time." He swallowed hard. "I don't trust myself not to make any mistakes."

It was a tough admission but an honest one.

Jocelyn searched his face for a long time. "Well, then let's make sure we'll get the bastard for good," she said eventually, a fierce glimmer sparkling in her failing eyes.

Hardy leaned back and let out the breath he'd been holding since running up the path to the cliff top hut.

"How long will it take for the blood analysis to come back?" Jocelyn inquired.

"Forensics says until next week to confirm with certainty it's Danny's. They are running DNA tests. It's old. Takes longer," Hardy informed them.

"Hm. Sounds about right," Butler agreed.

Jocelyn's eyebrows puckered. "Danny's blood alone doesn't prove anything though."

"Dirty Brian is looking for finger prints as well."

"Dirty Brian?" Jocelyn's amusement had wiped away her surly expression.

 _Bollocks._ He'd slipped. Tired from the last forty-eight hours, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"SOCO Brian Young. My chief of forensics," Hardy sighed.

"Brian Young who came on to Ellie Miller while you were investigating the Latimer case?" Jocelyn sought clarification.

Hardy sat up straight. "Shit. Is that going to be a problem?"

"It could be," Jocelyn said pensively. "Better not take any risks. George, can you take over the analysis of the blood and prints? I'll make sure we go through the official channels so that the Met can be involved."

"I'd gladly do so."

Hardy had already fumbled out his mobile and was ringing Brian. A hasty explanation later, he'd made sure Brian didn't lay any further hands on that tiny piece of hope. He dropped his phone like a hot potato and groaned.

"See. This is why I need you. I don't think like you barristers." The last word rolled of his tongue like a curse word.

Jocelyn's eyebrow went up. "Flattering as always."

"Don't start," Hardy growled back. He squinted at her. "You can't tell Maggie."

"Do you think I'm daft, DCI Hardy? 'Course I won't tell her," she exclaimed with indignation. "I'm a professional and good at what I do."

"So is she," Hardy countered. His lips curled up ever so slightly when he added, "Don't tell her I said that."

Jocelyn shook her head. "You're unbelievable."

"So says Ellie." The smile was now obvious on his face.

"Ellie? Not Miller any more?" It was a pregnant question.

Heat crept up from his neck to his cheeks and made his head glow.

"You can't be serious?" Jocelyn gawped at a squirming Hardy.

"Can we not talk about this?" he begged.

"And here I was worried about Dirty Brian," Jocelyn sighed. "You better make sure there is no doubt whatsoever where that piece of evidence came from and that chain of custody is untouchable."

"I will. And I'll hand it all over if I have to," Hardy assured her.

Jocelyn rose. "Well, then it's settled."

Hardy clambered to his feet.

"Are you going back to Broadchurch today?" she wanted to know.

Hardy shook his head. "I'm going up north."

"Visiting your daughter?" she asked with a smile.

"No." He had other plans.

"You're not by any chance going to Sheffield?" She searched his face. "Christ, Hardy. You better never play poker because I can read you like a book despite being half blind. Is he even still there?"

"That's why I'm going there. We don't know. It's been two years."

Jocelyn placed her hand on his shoulder. "Be careful. He's a dangerous man when he feels threatened."

"I'm not going to do anything rash. Just trying to find him. In case…" He trailed off, not allowing himself to indulge in the thought of arresting Joe Miller a second time.

"They do have police up there, you know that, right?" Jocelyn challenged him.

"Aye. But this is something I need to do. For the Latimers. For Ellie and the boys. And for myself," he added after a pause.

Jocelyn patted him gently on the back. "Putting things right."

Hardy huffed. "I'll keep on trying."

"Good luck. We'll stay in touch," she said when he walked out the door.

Rain drummed down and plastered his hair on his head. The chill worked its way under his coat and into his bones. The unmeasurable weight of Pippa's body was tugging harder today than it had in a while. He shoved his hands in his pocket, hiding the tremor which always came with it. He inhaled the cold air and trudged onward to face the storm blowing from the north.


End file.
